The Trial
by Eilike
Summary: A demon can only rightfully claim a soul if the human agrees of his own free will. Sebastian's authorization for making the deal with Ciel is questioned as Lizzy unsuspectingly brings down a heavenly (or hellish?) court over his head. Woe to the demon who is found guilty! But will Ciel renew his contract in front of witnesses to save his butler from trouble?
1. Lizzy Presses a Charge

Hello everybody! I have not written for the Kuro-fandom in quite some time. But I'm back with a new story, and I would love to hear that some of you are still out there, reading - and welcome to everyone who had not read one of my earlier stories yet.

The Phantomhive servants are going to have a lot to say in this story, and there's also Lizzy (in her recent Manga 'cute vs. tough girl'-characterization), the Marquise of Midford and a bit of Snake. But I needed a counterpart, so Angela had to step out of the Anime. I hope you don't mind this crossing-over of plots. After all, this is just one more attempt at getting Sebastian into trouble and watching him struggle his way out of it. I guess I'll never get enough of that :).

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 1: Lizzy Presses a Charge+++

Lady Elizabeth Midford dreamed: She was in her father's house, and sitting up in her bed she talked to the angel lady.

As Lizzy looked at herself, a small white figure like a porcelain doll, she realized that she was dreaming of the angel lady's first visit. She had come a couple of days ago, when Lizzy was tossing in her bed, sleepless, shedding bitter tears of concern and fear for Ciel. The angel lady had put a gentle hand on Lizzy's cheek and asked what was wrong. In the silvery moonlight she looked like something chiseled from ivory and spun of pure silver. Her white-feathered wings were magnificent, reminding Lizzy of a large swan. Her smile was gentle and serene. Not for one second did the girl doubt that her prayers had been answered.

Lizzy told the angel lady that she was deeply worried: 'Ciel is never happy anymore. He rarely smiles, and he walks around like there's a weight on his soul. Like there's something evil walking right behind him and casting its shadow where-ever he goes.'

'Well, what if there is?' asked the angel lady with her melodious voice.

'What can I do?' asked Lizzy. 'I love Ciel so much. I would do anything to help him.'

The feathered wings rustled like leaves in a summer breeze. 'Anything, child?'

Lizzy nodded, her voice choked with tears. Eyes of the color of amethyst stone rested on her. 'You are old enough to keep a secret, I believe.'

More nodding, astonished and a tiny bit curious.

'Very well. Then listen, child, as I tell you the secret of the Midford women.' The angel produced a little box and flipped open the lid. A single silver object like a small marble lay on a pillow of red velvet. 'This bullet was forged by Lady Margaret Midford, your ancestor in the early 16th century. Her husband was said to be possessed by an evil spirit. She used this bullet, and the curse was broken. You see, Elizabeth, this bullet has magical powers. All that needs be done is fire it with courage and a true and loving heart.' The angel held out the box to Lizzy. 'Since the days of Lady Margaret Midford this box has been passed down the generations, from mother to daughter. You're the last woman child in the Midford lineage, Elizabeth. May your ancestor's gift bring happiness to you and the young man whom you chose to give your heart.'

Lizzy accepted the box and marveled at the little silver bullet. 'What kind of gun does one need to fire it?'

'Any gun will do,' said the angel lady. 'But there is one thing that I need to ask of you: Once the evil that threatens your love's soul is marked, you need to call on the High Court for justice.'

'Justice?' Lizzy looked up, frowning.

'Do you think that Ciel would readily give over his soul?' asked the angel. 'Whatever evil has dug in its claws surely did so against his will.'

'But to summon a High Court? I don't want Ciel to get in trouble.'

'He won't,' the angel assured her. 'It's the evil one who must account for his actions. There are rules to be observed, after all. One of the rules is that a mortal must approve of a contract, and he must do so of his own free will. Another is that this particular High Court can only be called upon by a mortal.' The angel smiled enchantingly, 'That's where you come in, Elizabeth Midford. Consider it the debt you owe me for sharing your ancestor's story and providing the magical bullet.'

'How do I call on this High Court?' Lizzy was still not entirely convinced. For all the impact the angel's story and solemn words had had on her, there was something too hasty, too demanding in the visitor's demeanor now.

'Well, now that's easy,' said the angel. 'You wake up. Then you arrange for a visit at your fiancé's place. Once you're there, you find a pretext for firing a gun - '

'But I can't just go around shooting at - '

The angel lady silenced her, a long finger reaching out gracefully and stopping short of Lizzy's lips. 'Shh, my lovely. Of course you don't need to aim it at someone or something. You can fire it off right into the air. If your love for Ciel is as pure and true as I expect it to be, the bullet will find its way on its own.' The angel lady watched Elizabeth as if trying to read the girl's heart. 'That accomplished, you claim aloud that you, Lady Elizabeth Midford, call on the High Court to press your charge. Listen well, for this is crucial: You must demand the circumstances of Ciel Phantomhive's affliction with the forces of darkness investigated. You must say that you demand to know the truth, and you must say it aloud. Have you understood?'

Cold fear gripped at Lizzy's heart, 'Affliction with the forces of darkness? Ciel?'

The angel's eyes blazed, '_Have you understood, child?_'

Even if Lizzy had wished to, she would not have dared turn the angel down now. The Lizzy who was watching her dream-self, remembered the awkward feeling as she heard her own tiny voice whisper, barely audible, 'Yes, I have.'

The angel lady's pretty face contorted as if in hatred, 'Then fire the gun. Fire it now!'

* * *

Lizzy screamed and jerked awake. She found herself on the clearing where the hunting party had put up camp. She was resting in a comfortable chair with a blanket over her knees. Ciel, her parents and her brother Edward were about, chasing game. Sebastian had gone to bring in the trophies. The Phantomhive maid and the chef were busy preparing picnic a couple of steps to her left.

Since the initial dream Lizzy had done a great job, first convincing her family to pay Ciel a visit and then talking Ciel into an afternoon of hunting and camping in the woods. But it was hardly more than the first steps of the angel lady's plan fulfilled. The dream and the order to spring into action had reminded Lizzy of that.

From her purse, Lizzy produced the little box and the silver bullet on its velvet cushion. She had found it upon awakening from the initial dream, on that dreary night five days ago. It had rested on her bosom. Even in her sleep, she had held it clasped tightly to her fluttering heart with both hands.  
She let the bullet fall on to her palm now. Slowly, dreamlike, she reached beside her chair for one of her mother's guns. Just because they didn't invite her to join in the hunt it didn't mean that she hadn't been taught how to shoot. Lizzy raised the gun to her shoulder. She could hear the hunting party crashing through the brush somewhere behind her, right-hand side. So she trained the gun in the other direction and well above the heads of people mounted on horses – or the crouching servants, for that matter. She must not risk hurting real people.

_And the angel lady had said that the bullet would find its way._

Lizzy closed her eyes and pulled the trigger, trusting in the truth of her dream and the angel's words.

The shot cracked.

A gust of icy wind shook the leaves of the forest. A noise carried on the draft, an eerie sound like so many voices sighing in sorrow and pain. A flock of birds rose from the brush, shrieking. Lizzy felt the flesh on the back of her neck start to creep.

'Milady!' Bard and Mey-Rin came on running.

'I, Lady Elizabeth Midford, press my charge,' she said aloud. The gun was wrenched from her hands. 'I demand investigation. Whatever evil follows in Ciel's shadow... in the shadow of those trees ... please, I want ... I _demand_ to know the truth.'

'Milady!' Mey-Rin held her by the shoulders and shook her. 'Milady, you've had a nightmare. Please, you must wake up.'

Lizzy tried to smile at her, 'It's alright, Mey-Rin. I only - ' _did something very, very bad. _The sudden voice of conscience in her head alarmed her.

Beside her chair, Bard was down on one knee checking the weapon, a hard look on his face. 'I'll eat my cap if I didn't hear that thing hit someone,' he mumbled.

As if in response, a horse neighed somewhere nearby.

'Ciel?' Lizzy whispered. Getting up, she pushed past the maid and, gathering up her skirts, rushed forward. In her mind's eye, the angel lady laughed and clapped her hands.

_Bad girl. Bad girl. Now, who would've thought you could be such a –_

'No,' whispered Lizzy, when she saw Ciel lying on the ground. Her hands went to her mouth to stifle a scream.

_Bad girl!_

* * *

Ciel had stirred up a fine mountain cock and raised his gun, when a gunshot exploded nearby and a sudden cold gust startled his horse into prancing on its hind legs.

'Hey, hey, _hey_!' Ciel possessed the presence of mind to make sure that no stray shot was fired. But he lost his balance in the effort and slid to the ground. It was a rather controlled, soft landing which was probably the reason why his butler wasn't immediately there to catch him.

But as he looked down at his hands he realized that the ground had changed: There were no fir needles, no moss, no fragrant dark soil, and no sign of the secret, small insect life that usually populated the moist, rotting material. He was crouching on polished dark boards. Looking up, his nose almost hit the banisters in front of him. A dock. He was standing in a dock, and there was also a witness stand and a standing desk, all carpentered from shining mahogany wood. The domed ceiling was adorned with murals of all kinds of jurisdiction in progress, blindfolded women holding up scales of justice, men wielding giant swords, priests and kings, gallows, guillotines alongside illustrations that seemed to have been borrowed straight from the Sistine Chapel itself: scenes of Heaven welcoming the souls of the just, and scenes of Hell receiving the truly wicked.

He was in a courtroom.

In front of him, there was a semi-circle of desks, and seated behind those desks four figures clad in linen cowls. They looked vaguely like medieval monks. Wide hoods shaded their faces completely. They might be human. Or they might not be human at all.

'The contractor has arrived,' said a voice that probably belonged to the figure on the left. It seemed to hold a special office, for its cowl was dyed a bright red whereas the other three were kept in a modest earth brown.

'Who are you?' asked Ciel, starting to get to his feet.

'_Don't touch him_,' snapped the figure that was seated beside the red one. 'Honestly. These beasts have no respect for anything.'

Ciel saw and deliberately grabbed the white-gloved hand that was offered to him.

'The culprit has arrived,' said the red figure, voice syrupy.

'Sebastian?' whispered Ciel. 'Where are we?'

'A High Court.' Sebastian scanned their opponents. 'It seems that I've been officially accused.'

Judging by the hard look in the demon's eyes this place was not only weird. It was highly dangerous.

_And_, Ciel realized with some alarm, _they were caught in it together._

* * *

+++End of Chapter 1+++

A/N: Well, the stage is prepared. Sebastian thinks he knows what he's in for. He doesn't. Trust me. :) Please feel free to review! I really hope to get some 'Story Alerts'; knowing that there are people waiting for the next chapter is such a motivation for bringing it online all the quicker :) .


	2. Witch-Hunt

Hello, everybody. Thank you for reading and reviewing. Promocat - it was really good to read your name again and find you're still around. "Guest" and ChildofShadows, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, too.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 2: Witch-Hunt +++

_This is a dream_, Ciel told himself. _It has to be. You'd better hope it is. _He looked at the four hooded figures. _Because if it's not then it's some place where - where you just should not be._

_Don't let them see you're uneasy. Don't jump to conclusions. Gather information. Sebastian - he seems to have an idea of what's going on. _

'You've been accused?' Ciel asked of the demon, 'Of what?'

Sebastian, too, kept his eyes on the members of the tribunal, 'An offense against the rules of ritual and aesthetics, most likely. Since you are present, young master, I assume that it - '

The figure in red cut him off, 'Silence! The culprit will speak only when spoken to!'

Sebastian immediately bowed his head – a little bit too devout for Ciel's tastes, 'But the young master asked a ques- '

'Silence!' The red figure produced a whip and slashed Sebastian across the chest.

'How dare you hit my butler?!' Ciel shouted. 'Who are you, anyway?' The part of him that was not outraged expected the whip to come down on him, too. But the hooded leader replied in a moderate tone of voice, 'The High Court has been summoned. My person,' he pointed a red gloved hand at himself, 'is the Lord High Judge, in charge of presiding over the investigation. These,' he pointed out the other members of the court with an all-encompassing movement of his hand, 'are the chief prosecutor, the bailiff and the Lo- excuse me, the Lady Assessor.'

At the introduction, the chief prosecutor jerked a nod, the bailiff indicated a bow, and the Lady Assessor wriggled about and made soft noises as if she were secretly blowing kisses in Sebastian's direction.

'Why won't they show their faces?' asked Ciel. 'What kind of trial is this?'

'The rightfulness of your deal with the demon Sebastian Michaelis has been questioned,' said the Lord High Judge. 'In other words: The demon Sebastian Michaelis may have formed your contract without the proper authorization.'

'What do you mean, authorization?'

The chief prosecutor spoke up, 'Your approval. For a human to surrender his soul rightfully to a demon, it is necessary that he do so of his own free will.'

'But I did,' said Ciel, flabbergasted. 'I wanted this contract with Sebastian.'

'Of course, he wasn't Sebby-Chan by then,' the Lady Assessor pointed out. 'It was this absolutely disagreeable boy who bestowed that ridiculous name on him.'

The chief prosecutor moved his arm as if pushing up eyeglasses hidden in the shades of his hood and said, 'Honestly. We're not here to discuss the process of name-giving - '

'But if there was a law against ridiculous names I would file a case of my own,' insisted the Lady Assessor, tugging the seam of her wide garment. 'And claim that members of this court all wear red. This isn't just the dullest color I've ever seen. It's – it's _dull-most_.'

Ciel looked from one to the other, 'Listen, I don't know what this is. But just a moment ago I was in the middle of a hunting trip with a formidable mountain cock right up in my sight. My horse pranced. I must've hit my head. Is that it? I am dreaming this?'

'Let's start the investigation.' The Lord High Judge leaned forward and steepled his fingers, 'Would you care to tell us what happened on that winter's night, three years ago?'

'I'm under no obligation to tell you anything,' replied Ciel hotly, 'I want to wake up. I - '

'Young master,' said Sebastian solemnly. 'This isn't a dream. The court has been summoned, and I am in trouble, if I may be so blunt and - ', the whiplash hit home, chastising him for speaking without having been addressed first, 'it would be extremely helpful - ', another hit sent Sebastian reeling and reaching for the banister in front of him to keep his balance, 'if you would - ' The whiplash drew blood. It turned the front of the demon's shirt red within seconds. Sebastian fell silent and stared with open hostility at his torturer. His left hand clutched at his soaked shirt.

It was this gesture that made Ciel realize that something about the demon was not as it should be. For some reason, Sebastian needed a break to get his bearings. Well, his master could provide that.

Ciel turned to the court, 'Stop hurting him. I'll tell you about that night.'

And he quickly summed it all up, in clear, emotionless words and as far as the facts went: How he got imprisoned and held captive. How he had fervently wished for power to change his fate. How the demon had appeared and suggested that they make a deal –

'Hold it,' said the Lord High Judge. 'Exactly what was the deal about. What would you gain in return?'

'I - ', Ciel cast Sebastian a glance. Even for a dream, this was getting too intimate.

'The young master need not answer that,' said Sebastian quickly. He straightened his back and braced himself for the next vicious lashing. But, quite unexpected, the chief prosecutor came to his rescue, saying, 'The beast has a point. The witness may choose to keep his silence on this particular detail.'

'But the accused may not,' the Lord High Judge pointed out, venom in his voice. 'Therefore I ask you, Sebastian Micha- '

'Don't answer that! That's an order.' Ciel snapped.

Smirking, Sebastian clamped his mouth shut.

'Honestly,' said the chief prosecutor irritably, pushing up his hidden glasses. 'This is getting us nowhere. After all, the important thing is – did the demon ask the victim's assent? Did he ask whether the mortal wanted that deal? Let the human continue.'

'Yes,' the bailiff chimed in, speaking up for the first time, 'let the earl continue, so we may all hear the terrible truth of the abominations that came to pass on that day...'

'The truth,' snapped Ciel. 'The truth is that Sebas- excuse me: _the as-then-unnamed demon_ told me that it was mine to decide whether I wanted to make a contract with him.'

'There we go,' said the Lord High Judge patiently and as if a long line of argument had come full circle. 'He said it was yours to decide. But what choice did you have?'

Ciel did not believe his ears, 'Choice? I had all the choice in the world. I could've said no.'

'And get yourself killed by those people, those occultists,' said the faceless figure. 'Is that really what you'd call a choice?'

'I can see where this is leading,' said Ciel, seething with barely suppressed anger. 'You want to see Sebastian convicted, no matter what I say.'

'Oh, no, no, no, no - _no_. You're still missing the point. Maybe it is time to bring in another witness.' The Lord High Judge casually waved his gloved hand in the direction of the witness box. Seconds later, a small, timid form stepped forward from the shadows.

'Lizzy,' said Ciel, shocked.

'Ciel?' Lizzy looked as if she were asleep, her eyes wide and vacant, but filling with tears quickly. 'Ciel, are you alright? Your horse must've shied, and I was so scared - '

'Elizabeth Midford,' the Lord High Judge cut her off, 'please honor us with your presence as the crucial question is placed.' He gestured to the chief prosecutor, who stood up and said, 'Ciel Phantomhive, are you prepared to renew your pact with Sebastian Michaelis, right here and now and in front of this court?'

'Renew?'

'It would be the easiest way to demonstrate your approval.'

Sebastian immediately held out his hand.

Ciel looked at Lizzy. A panicked feeling rose in his chest. 'This is unfair,' he protested, 'I am not free in my decision here.'

'Well, you could always say no and go free.' The Lord High Judge nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. 'This time no-one's going to kill you if you do. The filth of your past would be cleaned away, the deal immediately revoked. This court has the power to do that. You could return to your life, marry this brave lady and consider those past years a bad dream.'

The bailiff clapped his hands, cheering, 'A happy ending! A happy ending!'

Silently, Sebastian kept offering his hand to his young master. Obviously, he didn't share the bailiff's gaiety. Ciel suspected that very unhealthy consequences ensued for a demon who was officially convicted of having taken advantage of a human being.

'This is taking too long, and I'm not prepared to do overtime,' the chief prosecutor announced sternly. 'Ciel Phantomhive? Are you prepared to take this individual's hand and state loud and clear that you accept the contract as formed by this beas- by this Sebastian Michaelis and that you do so of your own free will? Then do so now.'

'Of course, you might just say "I do",' suggested the Lady Assessor and started to go over her table. 'I will demonstrate you at Sebby's- at the culprit's feet how it's done.' The chief prosecutor tripped her by shoving something long and extractable like a gardener's tool between her feet. She landed on her face and gave a long howl.

'This is nothing but a witch hunt. Lunacy. Madness!' Ciel pointed fiercely. 'These two, the chief prosecutor and the Lady Assessor, are those shinigami, Spears and Sutcliff. The bailiff is probably Lau. I can tell by his accent. And the Lord High Judge is no other than this crazy angel, even though I don't know how she can talk with a male voice - '

The Lord High Judge rose from his chair, 'Ciel Phantomhive, will you or will you not take your butler's hand?'

'Young master,' urged Sebastian. 'Come to me.'

Looking at the gloved hand, Ciel thought of the sharp, black claws that had reached through his bars of his cage to seal the deal. How often did Sebastian clip his nails to keep them neat and short under that cloth?

'Ciel,' sobbed Lizzy, and suddenly, everything became very clear to Ciel.

_I am sorry, Sebastian,_ he thought, hoping that his regret somehow showed in his face. _But Lizzy may never know about our deal. If this is not a dream, if it is real - then I cannot take your hand now. The truth would ruin her life. It would kill her. And I am the only one who should pay your price..._

He watched Sebastian's expression change, but – unfortunately – not in secret understanding: The demon sensed the decision his master was about to make, and his alarm grew.

'Come, my lord. Come to me,' he pleaded, 'My lord?' And then he added, very softly, desperate, '_Please?_'

'But if this is a dream,' Ciel went on aloud, 'then my decision won't matter anyway. Either way, it's a game. I never lose at games. Not, if my fiancé is involved.'

And, shaking his head lightly, he pressed his lips together, and he took a step backward, away from the demon's hand. There was no misinterpreting this movement. A rustle of garments ran through the court as everyone sat up straight and leaned forward not to miss a single moment of the drama that evolved before them. Sebastian's eyes widened. Ciel had never seen that agonized look in his demon's face. 'Young master!' The demon's voice sounded lost, and it faded as if Sebastian were spiraling away, down into a darkness where his master could not – would not – follow.

'Sebastian!' Ciel yelled and finally, he struggled. 'Sebastian!'

'Stop thrashing! Father! Hold down his legs!'

_Hands. On his body._ Ciel gave another cry and opened his eyes. Edward's face hovered over him, and on his other side, the Marquis Midford came into view. It had obviously taken the strength of both men to immobilize Ciel as he writhed and kicked. Behind them, there were Mey-Rin and Bard, both displaying worried faces. Bard carried a gun which struck Ciel as odd because servants were not supposed to take part in the hunting game.

'What happened?' asked Ciel, surprised at how weak he sounded.

'You fell off your horse and hit your head,' the marquis informed him. Seeing that Ciel was finally awake, he let go and signaled Edward to let Ciel sit up.

'Ciel, oh Ciel!' Now, Lizzy's arms were around him, hugging him. She trailed a faint smell of camphor.

'Easy, Elizabeth,' warned Aunt Frances putting a stopper on a small vial. 'You're in no condition to bear excitement.'

Worried, Ciel held his fiancé by her shoulders to get a better look at her, 'Are you hurt, Lizzy?'

'I fainted when I saw you lying on the ground. I thought you were dead. Mother had to use her smelling salt on me.' She buried her face against his shoulder. 'I was so afraid, Ciel.'

Ciel held her as he looked about, searching, 'Where's Sebastian?'

'I am here, young master,' said Sebastian. Everyone turned to find the butler standing in front of a patch of hazelnut brush as if he had stepped right through the branches. He carried a dead mountain cock.

Everyone stared at him.

It was Bard who spoke first, 'Let me get this straight: The young master gets hurt, _and you go around collecting dead game?_'

'For heaven's sake, butler. It bled all over your shirt,' said Edward, wrinkling his nose.

Sebastian looked down himself as if he noticed only now. 'Indeed. I apologize.'

'Well, butler,' said the marquise, 'a clean shirt to change before you presented yourself to us would've been more to the point, don't you think?'

'Aunt Frances. Edward. Please,' said Ciel. 'Sebastian. Give me a - '

'Gwarrgh,' said Bard and dropped the gun. A small snake crept out of the barrel. It was no longer than a man's lower arm and of a pretty green and golden color. It raised its head and flickered its tongue, two times, three times - then it slithered into the brush and was gone.

'What the hell was that?' asked Bard. 'How could that thing hide in there and survive?'

Everyone, including Sebastian, looked at the spot where the snake had disappeared. Using the distraction as if he was ashamed of his own next movement, Ciel reached out and grabbed the demon's hand. Sebastian didn't seem surprised. Their eyes met, amber and blue. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing to say.

Ciel clutched the gloved fingers with crushing force.

But looking into the demon's strangely vacant eyes he couldn't help the feeling that it was too late.

Too late.

+++End of Chapter 2+++

* * *

A/N: Well, isn't that a nice array of adversaries that we find assembled here? Please, don't ask me what Lau is doing there. So far, I'm not sure myself, he just started speaking and I recognized him by his style :) Looking forward to your reviews.


	3. Truth or Dare

HI, everybody. Thank you for reviewing. That's a nice concept you have suggested, Risi (and I'm glad you're back, too :) ). Might be the an interesting story. But as far as I can see for this story, Sebastian's going to get a lot of attention from a lot of people. :) For now, he's about to try and fix things on his own... and there's a lot you can set in motion, using a ladle and a remorseful chef.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 3: Truth or Dare+++

The hunt was over, and the house had become quiet. The marquis and his son had departed, leaving the marquise and Lady Elizabeth to stay for the night. Elizabeth had claimed that she was afraid Ciel might have been hurt, after all. She wanted to make sure he was alright. Her mother had agreed, not wanting to stand between a young girl and her fiancé. It was a good attitude for a designated wife to show care and responsibility towards her future husband.

So, Bard had had to prepare dinner for three. A hassle, after spending all day away from his kitchen. Sebastian hadn't been of much help, either. After his blunder at the hunting party, he seemed grumpy and unforgiving even towards the most trivial mistakes. Which was quite unfair of him, because Bard and Mey-Rin had at least been_ there_ when the young master was lying on the ground, hadn't they? Heck, the young master had writhed and cried out for his butler, and where had Sebastian _been_, for Chrissake?!

_And as if all of that hadn't been enough..._

No, Bard was glad this day was over. He only needed one more thing from the kitchen, and he returned to get it.

He was surprised at how dark the kitchen already was. Someone had closed the shutters, making Bard walk into a bag of coal.

And that someone was still in the room, sitting at the table with his hands folded in front of him. Waiting. Spotting the figure in the dark, Bard grabbed a ladle from a nearby hook and raised it above his head. 'Freeze!'

The man did not move. Yet, a single candle sprang to life.

'Sebastian?' The chef lowered his makeshift weapon. 'Hell, what are you doing here?' He looked again, blinking. 'You look like death warmed over. Are you alright?'

'Can't say I approve of you sneaking around at this time of the day, Bard,' said Sebastian. He did not look at Bard but cherished the single candle in its silver stick on the table. He cupped it with his hands and breathed softly on it, as if he were caressing a pet or needed to talk the stub into giving off a little more light than its short wick could actually produce.

'Sneaking? Hey, mate, it's not even nine through, and this is the kitchen, and I am the chef.' Bard made a gesture that encompassed the entire room, '_Kitchen,'_ he pointed the ladle at his chest, '_Chef.'_

'I get your point,' said Sebastian, letting go of the candle. 'Please, accept my apology.'

'It's okay, pal. 'S been a hard day for both of us.' Bard went to crouch in front of a small cabinet. He could feel the amber eyes' gaze on his back.

'Here,' he said, stood up and set a glass and a bottle on the table in front of the demon.

Sebastian read the label, 'Brandy?'

'You look like you could do with a little drink. I, for my part, came to get one.' Bard poured two drinks and sat down. He lifted his glass, but he did not drink. Musing, he took the ladle in his hand and spun it on the table. 'Truth or dare, Sebastian? Choose for me.'

'Truth,' said Sebastian, and maybe for the first time during this encounter, he really looked at Bard. 'Bard, I can see something's eating you. What's the matter?'

Bard heaved a deep sigh, 'I may have made a mistake, Sebastian.'

'By exposing the soufflé to the open window? I already made another and dispatched the - '

'I'm not talking about dessert. I'm talking about that guy.'

Sebastian stiffened his back ever so slightly, 'What guy?'

'Black suit, straight face, glasses. He carried something like – like something Finny would use to trim the trees. A gardener's tool. He used it to push up his glasses. _Honestly.'_

Sebastian felt a cold chill creeping down his spine. _He'd expected this, hadn't he?_ _It was standard procedure._ Nevertheless, he asked, 'What did he want?'

'He said he was sent by some court and had some questions to ask.' Bard sipped his drink and shivered. 'I told him to go to hell. He said he'd already been there. Talked to your cousin or something.'

A quick, mean smirk crossed over Sebastian's face.

Bard looked hurt. 'You don't believe me, do you?'

'I was just imagining that guy talking to...' Sebastian sighed. 'I do believe you. No mistake on your behalf so far. That... man, he probably wasn't happy.'

'You're damn right he wasn't.' Bard spun the ladle. 'Truth or dare, Sebastian?' he mumbled.

'Truth, Bard, and stop drinking. You've not yet told me the whole story.'

'He was very straightforward. He asked directly to my head whether I had something to complain about, working for you. I told him just as directly that you're the best commander I've ever had the honor of serving under. Even though you could express yourself clearer sometimes.' Bard's eyes flashed up to gauge Sebastian's reaction. 'I didn't think anything of it then. The comment just slipped out. But he smiled and thanked me and said that was all the information he'd come for.'

By now, Sebastian's smile had completely vanished. His long, gloved fingers toyed with his brandy glass. 'I could express myself clearer,' he mumbled. 'Like, for instance, when I ask someone's approval to make a new contract. Yes, Bard. I believe you gave him all the evidence he hoped for.'

Bard looked miserable. 'Sebastian? Please, don't be mad at me. I meant no harm.'

Sebastian reached for the ladle and spun it lazily. 'It's "dare" for you this time, Bard. I want you to slap your face.'

'What?'

The ladle stopped. It pointed toward Bard, as he had already thought it would. _It was just his luck._

'Both sides,' said Sebastian. 'Three times each.'

'But - '

'Hard, Bardroy.'

Before he knew he'd made the decision, Bard raised his hand and hit himself. He didn't want to make it painful, naturally. But his hand seemed to pick up speed on its own. Two slaps, and he felt his cheeks burning. Two more, and he knew that the marks of his fingers were visible on the skin. He wavered. 'Sebastian? Can't we just have another brandy and be even?'

' "Yes" to the brandy. "No" to being even,' said Sebastian over the rim of his glass. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. _Probably the brandy going down,_ Bard thought. Never before had the Phantomhive butler been seen eating or drinking anything without the young master say so.

Coming to think of it: Never before had Sebastian sat in the kitchen, joining the staff on pastimes and party games.

'Something's eating you, too,' observed Bard. 'Won't you tell me who that guy was? Or what's going on?'

For just one moment, Sebastian was at a loss for words. How was he supposed to explain? How could he describe to Bard the nature of demonic existence? An existence in which shape was optional, and the world of humans was just another place to be? Not the worst of places, no, not by far. But there were others places, and under... certain circumstances, and aided by strong magic, a demon could be made to exist in both at the same time.

And in another place that looked like and served as a court room, there were a silver-haired angel, a shinigami and their dark prisoner – or, more to the point, the part of him that _very strong magic_ had managed to arrest...

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

When the boy, Phantomhive, had refused to renew his contract with the culprit, the need for further investigation had been triggered. Will, who seemed very serious about his role, announced that he would go in search for evidence. Until his return, Sebastian Michaelis was to be held in custody. There was no doubt that the demon would resist detention, claiming that his master rely on his service. But the Lord High Judge had already taken precautions, and so it was that while the culprit had been able to leave in body, an essential part of his supernatural aspect was held back in this room. However, the part that remained, was not what Grell had hoped for or even expected when he volunteered as a guardian.

Watching the angel's whip dance and cut across the demon's form, he thought to himself that he had not expected her to stay, either, and therefore he felt disappointed in more than one way.

'I don't like Sebby-chan being that way,' he complained. 'He doesn't look in the least bit yummy.'

Angela still wore her red robe, but the hood had fallen back during the exertion. Her eyes blazed. 'He looks way too vivacious. He's thinking about ways to escape when he should repent of his sins.' Her whip hit home again. '_Repent!_'

Black feathers billowed. Their prisoner took the blow as he had taken all of Angela's vicious beating before: in complete silence, pressed against the court room's wall.

'Maybe,' Grell suggested hopefully and edged nearer, 'maybe we should give him an opportunity to commit a sin to atone for, first?'

* * *

In the Phantomhive kitchen, Sebastian reached across the table and toyed with the ladle. 'Have you ever cut a bullet from a man's flesh, Bard?'

Bard gaped at him. 'Why do you ask that?'

'Because I'm faced with quite a comparable challenge.' Sebastian hit the human with a calculated look that would have caused more sensitive natures to go to their knees and beg to henceforth live, suffer and die in the demon's service. In other times and places, in fact, it had. 'What would it take to get you to assist me with a task like that, Bard?'

Bard shivered. 'All the riches in the world could not make me repeat that experience.'

'That's not what I asked,' said Sebastian patiently, thinking of _those good old times_. 'I didn't ask what it would take _not to get you _to assist me.'

'You really mean it. You want me to dig into that memory.' Bard knocked back his drink. 'Make my life miserable, why don't you?'

'I asked myself just that, you don't know how often.'

'Well, this time...' Miserably, Bard put down his glass and shook himself, 'Be my guest.'

Sebastian moved stealthily, purposefully, like a predator getting ready to charge, 'Careful, Bard. I mean it.'

'So do I.'

'Deal,' said Sebastian, sounding oddly resolved and satisfied.

Bard cast him a puzzled look, 'Huh?'

'You're right, Bard.' Sebastian's voice had changed again. Now it was suave. 'It's bee a hard day for you - for both of us. Why don't you forget about that guy and his questions and rather indulge in a little game with me?' All friendliness and understanding, Sebastian held the ladle out toward him.

Bard felt a tickle on the back of his neck that he had learned to associate with imminent danger. He stared at the butler, then at the tool, 'Hah?'

'Truth or Dare. By the way, what do you think about preparing an omelet for tomorrow's lunch?'

'What do I - ?'

'You're right again, of course, Bard. We'd need eggs.'

'But I don't - '

Patiently, Sebastian pointed. '_The ladle, _Bard. Spin it.'

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

Grell stood in front of the form of darkness that looked like it was made of shadows, black feathers and nightmares. Instead of a face, there were fleeting impressions of eyes, a nose and mouth, as if someone pushed their face against an oily black canvas, trying to break through - and sometimes there were even more than the usual number of features to be imagined at once. Grell searched, but he could not find a trace of Sebby-chan's usual maddening cool and cynical attitude in the turmoil.

'Do you like what you see, shinigami?' asked the angel. 'Isn't that what you lusted for?'

'What is it, anyway?' asked Grell.

'It is what remains of a supernatural being if you prevent him from leaving a plane of existence and entering the next. This demon followed the boy back to the mortal world. But the magic I had the girl work pinned some of his essence him to this room like a bug is pinned to the cardboard.' The angel explained with a faked expression of pity. 'So, he ended up spread-eagled between worlds. In the human world, mostly. But I have a leash to pull him back by, whenever we need him to - testify. Look closely.'

'A leash?' As tentative as intrigued, Grell took a step forward.

* * *

Ciel and Elizabeth were taking an evening stroll in the mansion's garden. It was getting dark, but neither of them commented on it. In fact, not many words had been exchanged between them at all after returning from the hunt. Ciel was never much of an idle talker these days, but today he was too lost in thought even to realize that Lizzy kept uncharacteristically silent, too.

The silence was broken by someone shouting ahead. Moments later, a dark silhouette appeared before them. It was a man in white clothes, racing, jumping, dancing with outstretched hands. There was a strange fluttering movement about his head.

In an instinctive reaction Ciel drew Lizzy close. Then, they both heard the man's cursing and recognized the voice, 'Stupid cock! _Argh!_ No! Off! _Off!_ That hurts! _Ah!_ Stop pecking!'

'That's Bard,' Ciel said, surprised. 'Why, he's collected some eggs from the hen house. But that's Sebastian's job.'

'Sebastian's job?' asked Lizzy. 'Bard's responsible for the kitchen, isn't he?'

'Yes, but the cock's a real mean beast, and it can't stand him. He'll end up with his face and hands in shreds every time he goes near the hens. So, I take it he usually leaves it to Sebastian.'

'Who gets along unharmed,' Lizzy concluded as if that was self-evident.

'I wouldn't exactly say that ... but he certainly isn't so noisy about it.' Ciel looked after the chef who moved like a maddened Rumpelstiltskin, trying to escape the furious bird. 'It's getting chilly, Lizzy. Would you like to go inside and play a game of cards?'

Lizzy gave it her best effort to beam at him like she usually did, 'I would love to do that, Ciel. I would love it very much.'

* * *

'Here's your stupid eggs.' Bard nearly slammed his hen house loot on the table. Blood trickled from his left eyebrow, and there was a deep gash in his cheek.

'Relax, Bard,' Sebastian suggested. 'It's only a game.'

'A game? Hah!' Bard reclaimed his seat and his brandy glass and spun the ladle with a vengeance. '_Dare!_'

He had timed his movement well, and the ladle stopped with its front side pointing toward Sebastian. Bard gloated. But the ladle wasn't done yet and with a final shiver it slid just two more inches to the left. Now it pointed at Bard. Again.

Sebastian gave a soft sound that might have been a sigh of relief or a chuckle. Or a gasp of pain, if that had not been so out-of-the-question.

'Can't focus,' he mumbled under his breath and put his hand to his chest.

Bard still stared at the tool. The sight of him seemed to quicken his counterpart.

'Now,' said Sebastian, slowly. He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips together. 'I think I've got another nice one for you...'

* * *

Ciel and Lizzy entered the building. The hall was dark, but Sebastian stood waiting for them with a three-armed candle holder in his hand.

Sebastian?

_No._

'Bard,' said Ciel, surprised. 'What are you doing here? Is that one of Sebastian's tail suits you're wearing?'

Bard had two fingers stuck into the collar of his shirt trying to breathe. He obviously felt extremely out of place and dressed-up. 'Sebastian is already in the library serving your refreshments. He ordered me to wait for you at the entrance. Heaven knows how he knew you'd come in...and where you'd be heading.'

'Oh, Heaven has nothing to do with it,' mumbled Ciel.

'Bard,' said Lizzy, feeling that she should bring something to his attention. 'There's hot wax dripping on your hand.'

Bard shifted the candle holder and moved his cigarette to the other corner of his mouth. 'If the gentlefolks would come this way...'

Ciel and Lizzy followed him to the library. Bard opened the door, imitating Sebastian's bow to the best of his abilities. He felt like the seams in the back of his borrowed tail suit might split. On second thought, he tried and bowed even lower, feeling vaguely disappointed when the high-quality suit took the strain.

In the room, Sebastian was laying out the table. He, too, bowed to the young master and the lady, bidding them a good evening. Then, his glance darted over to the chef, 'Bard, I should really counsel against holding the candles like that - '

As he spoke, the candle flames flared up in light and crackles. Bard pulled back from reflex, but he only barely made it. His hair and eyebrows were singed, his nose tip was black with soot, and his cigarette had gone up in flame altogether.

'Oh, Bard,' squeaked Lizzy. Ciel frowned. He had recognized the handwriting of the fiery eruption and wondered what his butler was possibly up to.

'Oh dear,' said Sebastian innocently. 'I tried to warn you. I opened the windows so there's quite a draft.'

'I – can tell now,' said Bard.

'Are you hurt?' asked Lizzy.

'I don't think so, Miss - '

'That's good to hear, yes, very good, indeed,' Sebastian interrupted. 'Anyway, you will not remain in the young master's presence looking like that.' Bowing to his master with one hand to his chest, he grabbed Bard with the other and pushed the chef out of the door.

Ciel looked after them, puzzled. Then he sat at the table and picked up the cards.

'Lizzy? Are you coming?' Ready to deal, Ciel looked over to where Lizzy was standing by the high book shelf containing the Phantomhive familiy chronics. 'Are you looking for something in particular?'

'Ciel? Is there, maybe, a copy of the Midford family tree somewhere in here?'

'I guess so. It would've been added when your mother married Uncle Alexis.'

'Help me find it, Ciel. I need to look something up.'

Ciel put down the cards and stood beside Lizzy, his eyes scanning the rows and rows of books. 'It's over there, see. Fifth board to the right.' He pointed. 'I'll have Sebastian get it down for us.'

'Ciel? Can we not - ' She looked longingly at a ladder that was attached to the shelves. Fixated on small wheels, it could easily be moved to every corner of the library's book-covered wall.

Ciel surrendered to her will. _Sometimes, you just didn't ask._

'Okay,' he sighed. 'I'll get it for you. No problem.'

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

Grell Sutcliff approached the demon as far as he dared to go. He squinted, looking for the ties the angel had spoken of. He could see something in changing shape. Something silver ...

'Stand back,' said the angel sharply.

'What? Why?' But Grell obeyed.

'Something's changing,' Angela hissed. Her eyes widened. 'He must've found a human who agreed to play his game of cat-and-mouse.'

'So?' Grell looked doubtful.

'So? _So_, you ask? Shinigami, you really don't know the invigorating effects playing with a human has on his kind, do you?' The angel recommenced whipping the living hell out of her shadow-like prisoner.

'Waste away as befits you, scum,' she yelled. 'Surrender! Repent!'

As the enraged angel continued to hit Sebby-chan, Grell wondered if this could be turned into a fairy tale, after all. He understood that Angela's magic had somehow been brought about by a girl's love. Maybe, a passionate shinigami's kiss of love could resolve the entire situation, and Sebby-chan would be grateful and agree to become his at last?

But Grell did not move. He couldn't help the feeling that, as far as the demon was concerned, instead of receiving a shinigami's kiss of love, ripping out a shinigami's throat would have the most invigorating effect of all.

* * *

Bard returned to the kitchen in silence. He did not need to turn around to know that Sebastian was but one step behind him, supple and soundless like a shadow. Bard was afraid that if he turned, he would find exactly this: shadows. Breathing down his neck. There was something strange about the butler tonight. It was almost like - like he was not entirely here. _Distracted,_ Bard thought to himself, but he knew that it was not the fitting word to describe Sebastian's present condition.

But when Bard entered the kitchen, Sebastian pushed past him, very corporeal, very focused.

'Sit down, Bardroy.' Briskly, Sebastian walked past, reclaimed his chair and reached for the ladle. 'I guess, we have about one more hour until it is my duty to supervise the young master's bedtime routine.'

'Listen, Sebastian,' Bard said quickly as the other moved to spin the ladle. 'How about a break?'

Sebastian looked up, surprised, 'A break?'

There was a certain 'But-I-have-not-even-begun-with-you'-tone to his voice that made Bard falter and, for some reason, realize how badly he needed to go to the bathroom. He swallowed dryly.

'Bardroy?' Sebastian arched a perfect black eyebrow. 'Do you feel that I have made your life sufficiently miserable for you to go to your knees and promise to live, suffer and die at my bidding? Already?'

'_What?'_

Sebastian reached for the ladle.

Bard watched him nervously. 'Sebastian, I'm serious. I've had my fill of this game. Maybe - maybe you could just choose Truth and I told you a little this-and-that about my life, and we could have another drink and - ' Bard stopped, seeing an expression of total lack of understanding pass over Sebastian's face. The expression went. The blank looks remained. _Try explaining to a cat that it would bespeak of good form to let go of the mouse now._ Bard found himself trying to argue, 'J-just sit and talk? _Please?'_

'One hour. At most,' Sebastian said. 'That's not too much time, really. Go to the bathroom, Bard, if you need to. But don't take too long. Truth.' He gave the ladle a push.

'You mean, you'd really, really run if you were me?' Bard asked in a light tone of voice. He was desperate to find some residue of humor in the situation. To find some residue of humor in Sebastian.

The ladle stopped, pointing at Sebastian.

'Yes,' the butler replied truthfully. 'I'd really, really run if I were you.' He raised the ladle, pretending to examine it. 'And, Bard - '

'Er...yes?'

The ladle swished through the air, its flexibility being tested. 'I truly don't think that will be fast enough.'

+++ End of Chapter 3+++

* * *

A/N: Oh dear. I really meant this chapter to be short. But it continued to grow. I wish I could state that Bard, at least, was having fun. But I'm afraid that concept does not really apply to what he's going through - and it's getting worse... :) I hope you enjoyed. If you did, please let me know. :)


	4. The Truth about Truth (and Soufflés)

Hi there. This was really meant to be a story of *short* chapters. But I kept you waiting longer than I intended and by this time wanted to have two chapters published, so I guess the score is still balanced :) Trying out all the things you can do to vex Bard when you've got a chance to and a demon more than willing to do your field work it pretty entertaining and it required some (happy) trial-and-error and therefore took its time :) Thank you for your reviews - I really appreciate your feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 4: The Truth about Truth (and Soufflés)+++

In the library, the large foliant was open on the table, and Lizzy read while following the tiny lines with her finger. At first, she had whispered to herself, 'Lady Margaret Midford...born 1543...died 1572...' Then she had continued to move her lips, but Ciel could not catch any more words.

Suddenly, she looked up. 'He died.'

Ciel was startled by her movement and the look on her face, 'Died? Who?'

'Lady Margaret Midford's husband.'

'Who?'

'She fired the bullet at her husband, Ciel. He was cured of the madness, but he died of the wound.'

'But what are you talking about, Lizzy?'

She tried to explain to him, 'My predecessor, Ciel. She meant to save her husband but she killed him trying.' Her finger tapped at a certain line. 'It says here that she was accused of black magic. She went to the stake for it.' As if meaning to emphasize the unhappy ending, Lizzy closed the book with a loud thud. Dust billowed up from the old pages.

Ciel still failed to see her point, 'That's bothering you? Things like that happened in the 16th century. Sad, but true. Why should it be important now? Lizzy, you look terribly upset.'

Maybe she would have told him about the angel lady, there and then. She wanted so much to confide in him. But Ciel's remark triggered a conditioned response in her well-bred girl's mind: _You've been a bad girl. And you've been lied to._

_Well, not exactly lied to, maybe. But deceived. Manipulated, at any rate._

_And now you look terribly upset. In the presence of your fiancé to whom you should always show nothing but a lovely and smiling face. Smile, Lizzy. Whatever happened – what-ever happened to the bullet you fired – Ciel is alive. __Thank Goodness. Ciel`s unhurt._

Lizzy forced a lovely smile on to her face. 'You`re right, my dear Ciel. How foolish of me to spoil our time together with terrible stories of the past. I'm sorry.'

'You don't have to apologize.' For the first time this evening, Ciel really looked at her and realized her silent distress, 'Lizzy, is something the matter?'

'N- no - there's - there is someone at the door,' said Lizzy, glad for the distraction.

There was indeed a polite rap of knuckles against the wood, but somehow Ciel could tell that it was not Sebastian. He shouted permission to enter, and Bard came in. He was back in his cooking gear and his face displayed a gloomy, highly concentrated look.

Ciel looked at him with surprise, 'Yes, Bard? What is it?'

Bard shifted his cigarette uneasily. His jaw muscles worked. 'A – a soufflé must not be exposed to cold air,' he said. 'I learned that today. I will keep it in mind from now on.'

'Er... that's good to hear, Bard. But - '

'_I am so glad that Sebastian is here,_' Bard blurted out. '_He's perfect, proficient, we all hold him dear. This butler's a gift, in his ge-genius we b-bask -_ ' Bard struggled with his lines and scratched his head.

'Bard?' asked Ciel. 'Bardroy?'

'No, no – wait, I got it: _To live in his shadow what more could I ask?_' Bard concluded. 'Argh. Verse two - '

'Please, spare us,' said Ciel, flabbergasted.

Bard looked relieved, 'Is that an order?'

'By all means.'

'Thank you,' sighed Bard. 'He can't object to that. Young master – milady, I wish you a pleasant evening.'

And he left with a happy spring in his gait.

Lizzy and Ciel looked at each other.

'What was that about?' asked Lizzy.

'Sounded like Bard got told off by Sebastian and felt a need to incriminate himself. In verse.' Ciel shrugged, turning his attention back to the table. 'Maybe he dropped the eggs. Now, how about if I put this book back in its place and we got down to our game of cards.'

'Be careful, Ciel.' Lizzy frowned as he started shakily to climb the ladder, cradling the heavy book in the crook of his left arm.

* * *

'Oh, by the way: The young master and the young miss have been studying family history, seems like,' Bard said, watching the spinning ladle.

'So?' asked Sebastian, his gaze focused intently on the tool and his thoughts dimensions away.

'I'm just saying. Pretty heavy book for the young master to carry all the way down from top shelf.'

'Impossible. He would've summoned me - ' Sebastian froze, mind snapping back to the here and now. His eyes darted to the left and up. Trying to see through the ceiling, 'Oh!'

* * *

'Oh!' Ciel swayed, trying to hold on to both, the ladder and the book. _Don't fall, don't fall, he'll catch you, out of thin air he'll catch you, and how are you going to explain_ that_ to Lizzy?_

* * *

'I don't hear nothing.' Bard cocked his head and tried to hear what Sebastian appeared to be listening to. The butler's expression was almost that of a stag hearing the hunt, at the very moment before bolting.

What he actually did, what Bard could not begin to fathom, was implore the young master to hold on, _Don't fall, don't fall, young master, I'll catch you, out of thin air if need be. But how the heck I am going to explain_ that_ to those humans?!_

* * *

'Ciel!' Lizzy saw her fiancé stumble and leaped to the rescue. Without wasting a thought on decency, sugar and spice and everything nice, she scaled the ladder and grabbed hold of the book. Relieved of the weight, Ciel clutched the ladder with both hands and steadied himself.

_Sebastian! I'm safe. No need to pull a stunt. _He tried to get the message across through those secret, supernatural channels that only the demon knew how to work. He judged from the continuing absence that his butler had received the notice.

'Thanks, Lizzy.' He crept up two more rungs, then reached out one hand toward her. 'You can pass me the book now. I'll put it on the shelf.'

'Yes, Ciel.' Lizzy smiled as she pressed the heavy book up for him to take hold of it.

* * *

In the kitchen, Bard watched different emotions pass over Sebastian's face as the tension brought on by whatever he had perceived ebbed off. Now, with the immediate danger gone, the butler looked more angry than worried as he took a deep breath.

'Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,' said Sebastian more to himself, and then, irritably, 'Anyway, how often do I have to tell him to be careful?'

'Er – Sebastian?' Casually, Bard rapped his fingers on the table and pointed at the ladle. It had come to a halt - a most definite halt - with its front toward the butler.

Sebastian looked flames at it.

'I think,' said Bard slowly, pretending to think hard, 'Yes - I think I will provide you with the opportunity to go and tell him once more.'

* * *

This time, it was Sebastian who knocked and interrupted Ciel's and Lizzy's game of cards. His face was completely void of expression, and he carried a glass carefully in both hands, one hand on top, the other under the glass's bottom.

'Is it already that late?' asked Ciel. 'Just a minute, Lizzy and I want to finish - '

Sebastian opened his hands, just like that, and let the glass fall to the ground. It shattered.

Lizzy jumped, making a little 'Oh!' noise and getting her feet out of the way of the expected mess. But the glass, they realized now, had been empty.

'What the heck?' said Ciel, perplexed.

'I apologize for this display of clumsiness.' Even Bard's recital had sounded more sincere. Sebastian went to one knee and picked up the shards. He got up and started to leave. It was obvious that he was not prepared to volunteer an explanation - or any more comment, for that matter.

Ciel called after him, 'Sebastian? What are Bard and you doing?'

Sebastian stopped but he did not turn around and spoke to the door instead, 'The young master should not trouble himself with the things going on in his kitchen.'

'Your way of saying it's none of my business, right?'

Again that flat voice, 'It is nothing that need bother you, at any rate, young master. Bard and I are engaged in a game.'

'A game of humiliating yourselves in front of Lizzy and me?'

There was the slightest tilting-forward of the black-haired head as Sebastian admitted, 'It does tend to take on some irritating traits.'

'Obviously. I can imagine how much that "clumsiness" cost you.' Ciel pointed at the broken glass in Sebastian's hand, knowing that the demon divined the gesture even though he still refused looking his master's way.

'I wonder,' said Sebastian, his voice masterfully controlled, if cold. 'Can you really?'

Ciel swallowed dryly. When he was done, the door had been closed from the outside.

'Ciel - ' began Lizzy.

'Don't ask, Lizzy. I have no clue about what's going on.' Determined not to worry any longer, Ciel sat down at the table and Lizzy followed his example.

They took up the cards, looked at them. Sorted them, thought about a winning strategy.

Raised they heads and listened...

'Ciel?' Lizzy looked toward the window. 'Do you hear that?'

'Sounds like Bard again,' her fiancé said.

Driven by curiosity and more than just slight wonder at what was afoot at the mansion to-night, they got up and pushed behind the heavy curtains.

The lawn before the window was lit by the usual moody lamps and high-lighted by the moon. In the gloom, a strange sight met their eyes: Bard was galloping in narrow circles, wearing a headdress that featured a set of floppy donkey's ears and proclaiming on top of his lungs, 'I am such an ass! An ass! A dumb-ass! Hee haw!'

May-Rin and Finny stood by the flower beds, doing their best to keep their faces straight. However, they were clutching their sides as if suffering suffocating pain from their heroic efforts. Snake stared on, his mouth slightly open. His pets coiled, and slithered, and hissed at his feet and about his body. He absently patted the head of a particularly beautiful green and golden specimen that seemed to watch the scene in great earnest.

Lizzy giggled. She couldn't help it although she recognized the accessory : Bard wore the Easter Bunny headdress that she herself had made Sebastian wear last Easter. She didn't mind the thing's promotion. Ciel had her arm around her shoulder as they stood close to each other, watching, and that was worth it all and more. Bard's next 'Hee-haw!', delivered with a great air of tragic defiance, made May-Rin and Finny crack up, while the young earl's mouth twitched. Lizzy saw it and held her breath: Was it possible? Would Ciel actually smile?

A window was opened above, and Lizzy's mother, the marquise, was heard, shouting, 'What is going on? What's the turmoil down there?!' She paused, then demanded in a shriller tone of voice, 'Cook! Have you lost your mind?'

'Hee Haw!' Bard cut a last ridiculous caper and disappeared inside. The servants hurried off, afraid to become the target of the noble woman's temper.

Sighing, Ciel removed his arm from Lizzy's shoulder. 'I wonder if I should go down to the kitchen. Set an end to this game, whatever it is about.'

'Don't,' pleaded Lizzy. 'Ciel, I have never seen your servants have so much fun.'

_I have not seen you come so close to smiling in so long a time, Ciel. And someone _did_ get hurt, Ciel, my love, I do not believe the angel lady would settle for a close call. But I fear - I fear to find out for sure. I am afraid of the truth._

'Fun?' asked Ciel incredulously. To him, the concept of humans having fun seemed so misplaced when it involved a demon's idea of a good pastime.

Lizzy smiled as she always did, but it was a painted smile. A terrible smile that seemed more than ready to turn into an anguished scream of sorrow and fear, and for the first time Ciel wondered what she knew.

* * *

The kitchen door flew open and Bard stomped in. 'They saw me!' he ripped the makeshift donkey ears off his head and threw them on the floor. 'Sebastian, they all came out to laugh at me. The young master and the little lady watched from the window, and the marquise, she asked if I'd lost my marbles. I made a total idiot of myself.'

'You are one to talk,' Sebastian said without sympathy. 'I had to act clumsily and break a glass. In front of the young master's eyes.'

'You know, pal,' said Bard, feeling his anger evaporate by the other's cool and casting a meaningful look at the bottle on the table. 'I thought that by now you'd probably not have to act...'

'I know what you thought, Bard. What you planned when you agreed to this game.' Sebastian reached for the ladle. 'But I'm nowhere near to spilling my heart out to you in an intoxicated fashion, and I choose "dare" for my next move.'

'Like you always did,' Bard pointed out acidly. 'That game offers yet another option, you know. It's called "Truth".'

'Which you did not choose once in your turn, either,' Sebastian reminded him. The ladle predictably stopped pointing at Bard.

The chef ignored it as he sat on his chair. His mood softened as he looked at the butler's pale face. 'Whatever it is that's been nagging at you, it hasn't improved. You look worse than ever. In fact, you look more drained than I ever thought you could be. Come on, Sebastian. Some honesty, please. What's going on?' He looked interested. He looked genuinely worried. He looked like he really wanted to know.

And the excitement of the game had been spent, and still the demon felt that the tug of the angel's spell was invariably on him, and he would have to engage another victim to anchor himself to this part of reality... and resist... and not melt down altogether... and _repent. Repent!_

No!

Sebastian locked out the angel's furious voice, and he braced himself against the pain she constantly inflicted on him. It was nothing compared to the terrifying perception of something far more black and evil happening to him, something that gave the idea of being drawn into oblivion a whole new meaning. A meaning that he could not sort out and put into words. No-one who had not experienced it could find the words.

And he bet no one had returned to tell.

He sighed. Maybe the time to sit and talk had come, after all.

'You want to know what's going on? A trial,' he said in reply to Bard's question. 'My alliance with the young master is put to the test.'

'By whom?'

'After the official summoning, the Lord High Judge assigns the members of the jury. There is usually a human to represent the mortal party and at least one shinigami to check the culprit's cinematic records. I seem to have gathered two of the latter. The name of the one you talked to is William T. Spears, the other's name is Grell Sutcliffe. I wonder why he hasn't shown up so far. He's passing on a great opportunity to cause inconvenience. And the human is probably our old friend Lau. I can think of a dozen reasons for Spears and Sutcliffe to get involved. I am not sure about Lau, though. Doesn't matter. He's taking part, so he'll have a function to perform.'

Bard listened intently, 'By whose authority does this jury pass their sentence?'

'By the authority of rules that have been in existence for a very long time and must not be changed wantonly if the world of humans is not to be doomed to chaos. There are laws that must not be broken.'

'Wow,' said Bard, leaning back. 'I didn't think wasting a soufflé would make such impact.'

They looked at each other for a couple of seconds.

'Bard?' Sebastian said at last, very calmly, very carefully. 'Did you understand anything I said? Did you at least _try_ to follow?'

Bard scratched his head, 'But if it's not about the soufflé, then what - '

'Truth,' said Sebastiam simply.

'Truth?' echoed Bard. And then, 'That's it?'

'That's it,' Sebastian agreed with so much serious conviction he left Bard, good-natured, silently triumphing about a precious bottle of brandy well-spent after all. 'You must understand this: Real truth is eternal. Real truth cannot be made untrue.' Sebastian paused for emphasis, then felt a need to specify, 'Of course, not everything that we hold to be The Truth now really lives up to the noble claim tomorrow or next year or next century. A false truth can always be – no, it will be revised.'

'Like your making a new soufflé when the first turned out to be ruined.' Bard remarked and helped himself to more brandy. Sebastian reached over, took the bottle out of his hand and set it back on the table. Bard moved as if to protest then thought better of it.

'You know, pal,' he said, 'you sound like you're standing in front of that strange court now, justifying something you did couple o'month or years ago.'

'Justification? Of my actions. That might be the case,' Sebastian said, holding the mortal in his gaze, trying to stare his meaning into the man's brain, 'If it wasn't for the generality of the Truth about Truth. And that is such: It can not be changed. Never, ever. It's the nature of it. Think about it, Bard: Whatever you said, you will have said until eternity. Whatever you did, the fact and consequences of that action will remain the same till kingdom come.'

'Sure,' said Bard, just to contribute. As he expected, Sebastian didn't even listen.

'Of course the facts and consequences of your deeds may be considered good in one century and sinful in another,' the demon continued. 'Morals change, as do laws. But the facts themselves, Bard – what was done, and said, and decided all the way back – those things have not changed. These are things that cannot be changed, no matter what they say.'

'Your hair-style,' said Bard and had the pleasure of watching Sebastian actually lose the thread. The demon blinked with surprise.

'My hair-style? What about it?'

'It never changes.' Bard lifted his glass to him. 'And that's my truth, mark me!'

Sebastian regarded the chef calmly, lovingly even. 'I want to eat your soul,' he informed him in a friendly tone of voice. 'I haven't felt a desire so strong in years, and I really wish I could give in to it now.'

'Ah,' said Bard and smacked his lips. 'Now we're getting to the bottom of all this. My soul. Gosh, buddy, that's really something I wouldn't easily have agreed to, couple of glasses back.'

Sebastian was up and around the table in an instant. Bard's glass crashed on the floor. Grabbing Bard by the hair with one hand (and not being too gentle about it), Sebastian ripped open his own vest and shirt with the other.

Bard flinched from the sight the clothes revealed. The movement caused searing pain in his scalp. He tried to duck away but Sebastian's hand held fast. He could not escape, he had to look again.

'It was a stray shot,' the butler said, looking sadly at the mess of raw flesh and gore where his sternum was supposed to be. Bard thought he saw white splinters of bone peeking out of the mashed tissue. Brandy rose in his throat. He gagged. A prickling feeling ran down his spine, leaving him very much sobered.

'You need to see a doctor!'

'A doctor can't help me,' Sebastian said. 'This is a nasty bullet. Only the person who fired it can remove it. You held the gun, Bardroy. I need _you_ to remove this bullet.'

'You're raving, man.' Ignoring the pain in his scalp, Bard turned his head up and searched Sebastian's face for a sign that the punchline was going to be delivered. Surely, nobody with such a wound in their chest could simply sit there, drink and talk philosophy on a silly game like Truth or Dare?

'I guess one might say I am not quite myself tonight,' Sebastian said sadly. 'But feverish - no. No, I'm afraid that's beyond even my capacities. Even if one considers the circumstances.' He prodded a broken rib with his finger like a boy testing a dead insect. Wondering if it could be made to run again. Bard thought he would faint, or vomit, or both. 'Don't do that!' he begged.

'When I came out of the shrubbery, holding up that dead bird to mask my blood with his, I saw you hold that gun,' Sebastian's voice was steely. 'I don't know, where you got it or why you fired it. I don't even want to know whether you knew about the consequences of your action. I only want you to remove this bullet. I _ask_ you to do it, Bard.' He guffawed joylessly and released his grip on the man's head with a last, good yank. 'You hear me? It's your choice, it's entirely up to you. _But I ask you, Bardroy._ What more could I do?'

'I – I can't!' Bard tried to get up, but he succeeded only at his third effort.

Sebastian followed Bard's every movement with a keen expression, 'Of course you can. I know a thing or two about your past, Bardroy. I know you've done such a thing before, at least once.'

'But that was another time,' Bard was careful to keep on the other side of the chair. He started to move toward the door, turning the chair with him. 'There were no doctors around. We were desperate. My companion would've died if I had not - ' The wound caught his eyes again, and he winced in sympathy. 'Please, Sebastian, it is not too late. We'll get you to London tonight.'

'A whole legion of London's finest doctors couldn't help me. You can.' Sebastian's eyes had taken on an expression of ferocity and, possibly, a red gleam.

Still, Bard tried to reason, 'Look, Sebastian, it's not that I wouldn't do it. I would. I swear. I'm drunk enough to try, like I was then. And maybe I could even succeed again like I succeeded with good ol' Higgins's leg. But you said only the person who did this to you could help you, and it wasn't me firing that gun.'

The eerie eyes widened with mocking disbelief, 'No? Then who was it?'

'I took it from the hands of the little lady. I still carried it when we rushed to the young master's side. Lady Elizabeth, she had fallen asleep. Had a nightmare and grabbed for the weapon. But she aimed it real high and...' He avoided Sebastian's glance, muttering to himself, 'Shit. I knew the shot hit someone, didn't I? Can't fool an old dog about the sounds on the wind, can you?'

Sebastian would have commented, had not the demon been lost in his own thoughts on the matter: 'Lady Elizabeth?' Sebastian's breath hissed softly between his teeth. 'So that's why they brought her to the court.' He changed his posture and assumed the characteristic pose of the Phantomhive butler lost in thought: One elbow cupped in his hand, and the index finger of the other lightly on his lips. 'I wonder if she understood only half of what would happen when she was talked into accepting the role of the plaintiff.'

Bard heard him and was immediately alarmed by what he perceived to be an underlying threat: 'You're not going to hurt her, Sebastian?' The chef mustered his courage and started to raise the chair he still used as a shield by its backrest. 'Because if you are - '

Sebastian gave his effort but the shortest glance from the corner of his eyes. 'I suggest that you leave now, Bardroy. I would rather be alone for some time. Mind your ears.'

'Huh? Ears?' Even as he spoke, Bard got his feet entangled in the carelessly discarded headdress. He tried to take a quick step forward that would save his balance, then toppled over all of the way. He managed to bring his hands under him to break his fall. In doing so, the shards of glass cut into the heels of his hands, and the chair he had momentarily forgotten he carried crashed on top of him, bruising his head and his ribs.

The demon stood watching, reflecting on how his thoughts on human inaptness were usually too offensive to be spoken aloud. But, he decided, now they were too complex and alien to human language even to be named. He summed them up in six words:

'You. Made me look. Clumsy.' he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head in curious despair. 'You.'

'Hey, mate,' said Bard weakly and tried to get up as fast and dignified as possible.

'You,' repeated Sebastian, towering menacingly and taking a step forward. 'Have not yet left as I asked you to, Bardroy. I am afraid you're taking too long. I've got things to think over, and I need some privacy to do so.'

Bard felt prodded and tugged, but he could not tell by whom or what. There were only shadows floating about him. And Sebastian, leaning purposefully toward the candle. 'Hey, no! Don't kill the - ' Bard stood and stared forlornly into the darkness. 'Light...'

'In the corridor, Bard. You'll find plenty of light there.' Sebastian's voice had changed. It had a strange resonance to it, like it was coming up from some deep, hollow place. 'Is that blood I smell? Are you bleeding, Bardroy?'

'Yes, no - listen, you saw me falling on those shards.'

Sebastian advanced one measured step, and hearing that was all it took. Clenching his bleeding palms into fists, Bard scrambled to his feet and fled. Behind him, the door slammed, and the bolt was locked by fingers of trailing shadows. Bard turned, threw himself against the wood and hit it repeatedly with his flat left hand while working the knob furiously with his right. The door rattled and shook but it did not give.

'Sebastian? Sebastian! Don't lock yourself in!' Bard raised his voice, then he yelled. Red eyes? Moving shadows? Bullshit! _You're a drunk idiot, Bardroy, that's what you are, and Sebastian, he's had his share, too, so, naturally, you quarreled and - _'You need a doctor! You hear me?! Open that damned door, Sebastian! Now!'

If Sebastian heard him, he didn't react. But the other servants did.

+++End of Chapter 4+++

* * *

A/N: Well now, so I guess it's Lizzy we need to persuade next... or can her mother, being of her blood, make a difference? I would be so happy to find you all reading on and please - review. :)


	5. Hanging by Silver Threads

Hi everybody, I just want to say thank you to my reviewers and welcome back all my readers and not make a lot of words, since this chapter is one of my longest to date. This was meant to be a story of *short* chapters - oh, well. It has been on my mind for quite some time to do a dialogue between the Marquise Midford and Sebastian, and this was my opportunity. Problem was, once I got them started, they simply wouldn't stop. Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed "copying down" their conversation :)

Oh, and I take the liberty of making the Marquise Midford the sister of Vincent Phantomhive. I don't remember reading anything to the contrary so far in the manga, and I thought that if she were another sister of Ciel's mother and Madame Red, we would've learned by now. Her husband cannot be Vincent Phantomhive's brother because he obviously is Midford, and - well, it's just a minor detail, anyway. I can easily fix it, if canon one day has it otherwise.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 5: Hanging by Silver Threads +++

The Marquise Midford arrived at the kitchen door and found Finny, Mey-Rin, Snake and Bard assembled. And a Chinese girl, the sister of one of Ciel's business partners that she had met on rare occasions. 'Have you been making that noise? Do you know what time it is? What is it with you servants tonight?'

'Sebastian's locked himself in the kitchen,' said the maid, her voice tiny. 'We've been shouting and rapping. - Well, all of us except Ran-Mao. But he won't answer.'

The chef sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He spoke around an unlit cigarette. 'Marquise, Sebastian is hurt.'

'Hurt?'

'A stray shot,' said Bard, his voice shaking. 'Square in the chest. I've never seen anything like it. Well, not in a living body, at any rate. But he even took his time to play Truth or Dare with me. Wanted to get me drunk enough to try and cut that bullet out of his ribs.'

'Why would he ask such a thing of you?' asked the marquise.

'He knows certain things. From my past.' Bard put his elbow over his eyes.

'We need to get Smile, says Wilde,' suggested Snake. 'He can order Black to open that door.'

The marquise looked at the door, 'What if the butler is in no condition to open it?'

The servants stared at her, shocked. Especially the maid turned starched white and gulped dryly. The marquise urgently wanted to order her to get a grip on herself. _This is not the time to remember that you have a crush on that man, girl. This situation requires action. Get moving._

She looked at each in turn, 'Did it not occur to you that the butler's plan to get the chef drunk may have backfired on him and he's fallen asleep in there?'

The servants didn't need even one second to make up their minds.

'Sebastian doesn't sleep,' said Finny, and the Chinese girl shook her head, if only to back him up.

'Never,' said Mey-Rin.

'Sometimes, I don't think he even can,' said Bard.

The marquise arched her eyebrows. 'You hold this butler in high esteem. One might think you didn't consider him entirely human.'

Everyone looked at her, puzzled. She felt like she was not talking English.

'He's Sebastian,' said Finny. Mey-Rin, Ran-Mao and Bard nodded eagerly.

'But where are you going, lady, asks Wordsworth?' Snake called after her.

'I am going to take care of this. When my nephew arrives, tell him not to interfere.' Holding up her skirts with both hands, her heels striking a quick, determined pattern on the marble floor, the marquise rushed down the corridor.

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

Alone. Finally.

Will had returned from his first round of interviews and asked the angel – pardon, the Lord High Judge – to confer with him on the results. Grell was left alone in the court room, and as much as he had welcomed the opportunity at first, he now thought that the silence was becoming oppressive.

Of course, he had tried to start a conversation with Sebby-chan. But the demon – or whatever it was that squirmed at the wall – had been utterly unresponsive. There was no way of telling whether he even knew that the lashing had stopped. Grell had thought about prodding him, but could not find any tool to do the prodding with.

And now he lay on his back on the Lord High Judge's desk and studied the murals overhead like a lover boy stargazing in a meadow. The problem was he didn't feel very romantic. In fact, the longer he looked at the angels condemning the evil-doers and the hordes of convicts plunged to hell, the more uncomfortable he felt. Just take a look at the guy over there, for instance –

The ceiling was pretty high, and Grell strained his short-sighted eyes. He squinted. He leaped to his feet, stretched out his hand, rose to tip-toe, tried to touch the painted face.

'Marvin?' he said, remembering the shinigami who had been placed under detention on the charge of having fed human souls to a starving female demon whom he'd fallen in love with. They had not exactly been friends but - well, there was something about his colleague's plight that Grell could sympathize with. But he'd never learned what became of the guy. Quit his service, he'd assumed. He'd just never assumed shinigami retirement could look - like that. '_Marvin O'Connell?_!'

The lost soul's green eyes were one with the wall, just like it was to be expected with any painted figure.

To Grell's horror, they moved his way and blinked.

* * *

In the dark silence of the kitchen, Sebastian sat very much in the same way that Bard did in the corridor: with his back against the wall and his knees drawn up, thinking.

At least that was what he tried to do – think. It was difficult to focus his thoughts. He felt as if part of him had been split off, and that part, it didn't have ears or eyes to perceive what happened to it - to_ him_. But he knew that _something_ was happening, in the court room. And it was horrible, and that part of him was struggling and fighting, and, oh, it was draining him, bleeding his energy. (The servants were shouting for him. The door rattled as they kicked and pounded it. He pretended not to hear. He'd be forced to answer to them soon enough, when the young master arrived at the scene and ordered him to come out.)

He needed to reach Miss Elizabeth. But he needed to be very cautious all the same. He did not know what the treacherous angel had told her. Did she know about the contract that bound him to her fiancé? What story should he tell her in order not to betray himself -

(The servants stopped making that infernal noise. Maybe they had tired of it. Maybe they had exhausted themselves. He didn't care. They were only humans, after all.)

He shifted his weight and sighed._ Only humans..._

'Look at you,' said the Marquise Midford. 'If misery needed a monument you'd make a fine model.'

Sebastian's head snapped up. Like she'd been summoned by his brooding, the young master's aunt stood in front of a dark rectangle that had opened right beside the kitchen's fireplace. She carried a five-armed candle holder, all candles lit.

'A secret door.' Sebastian climbed to his feet. It vexed him that he needed the wall for support, but here he was, swaying until he could put his hand against the unyielding stone.

'Old mansions are full of them.' The marquise looked about with curious eyes, 'My brother and I used to search for them, priding ourselves in being able to move about the building in great stealth.'

'A craft you still have command of, I can assure you.'

The marquise gave him a sharp look, 'The chef says you've been injured during the hunt.'

'Indeed, my lady.'

She approached him. 'Let me see the wound.'

'It would be unseemly to - '

She gave him one of her special looks from close-up. The kind of look that told him that to her eyes, he was merely a nuisance, and a brat, and a unkempt one at that. It never failed to silence him, and in the short interval the marquise reached out for his vest. He surrendered and quietly unbuttoned his shirt to show her the wound.

'Oh,' she said. Only that. And then, 'You asked the chef to mess with _that_?'

'I was working under the wrong assumption that he was suited for the job.' He closed his shirt again.

Whatever the marquise had meant to tell to the face of the man she had expected to find – a stumbling, bedraggled drunk who moaned over a scratch and had the brow to called it a gash – she certainly was not going to say any of it now. Instead, she said, 'Let me frank with you, butler: I am not sure whether even the surgeons at the Royal London Hospital will be sufficiently suited for a job like this.'

'They are not, my lady.'

'But, of course, we will still get you there on the double. It may not be too late. Who is the most adapt driver in this household? Save you, I mean,' she added, anticipating the obvious answer.

'That would be Tanaka-san. I appreciate your wish to assist me, marquise. But I will go nowhere tonight.'

She gave him a taxing look. 'That's right. You probably won't.' She took him by the elbow and started to lead the way. He followed through the secret door and onto a flight of steps leading downward. 'Marquise? Where are you taking me?'

The crispness was back in her voice, 'I told the servants I'd take care of this. And I will.'

Sebastian halted on the stairs forcing her to delay her step as well.

'There is only one way to take care of this mess,' he said. 'Marquise, will you tell your daughter that I need her down here? Please – hear me out before you object. That bullet, it is no ordinary projectile and only the person who fired it can relieve me of its effects.'

'I see. That's why you tried to employ the chef?'

'I was mistaken. I understand now that I must turn to your daughter for help. Marquise? Will you tell the Lady Elizabeth that I need her assistance?'

'I will tell my daughter nothing so silly. This is the 19th century, not the age of magic.' The marquise walked on. He had expected no less of her, but it had been worth a try. After all, she was a woman who favored the direct approach over beating around the bush.

Sebastian followed her to the bottom of the stairs where the secret passage opened into a small chamber. The stone walls were cold, the air smelled stale. There was only a small window, no more than a rectangular hole in the left-hand wall and high up overhead. The furniture consisted of a bed, a rickety table, a chair and a massive oak wood trunk with iron fittings. There was another corridor opposite them ascending into darkness.

The marquise put her candle holder on the table next to a water bowl and some pieces of cloth. Taking one candle from her set of five she proceeded to light the candle stubs sitting on the table and the trunk.

'Marquise,' said Sebastian, looking about in wonder. 'What is this place?'

'The chef-de-cuisine's ready room,' she said. 'This mansion has hosted splendid events, dinners, balls... When the kitchen staff was engaged in the preparation for a three-days-celebration, or an afternoon's tea with royal visitors, the chef could not afford to remove himself from the scene for long. He'd stay right here, where he was easy to summon and never entirely off-duty.'

'The other corridor, it leads to the staff quarters.' It wasn't a question. The demon's nose had already told him as much, smelling the cold smoke from Bard's cigarettes and explosives and the fragrant earth and garden stuff that always clung to Finny's wardrobe.

'A secret door just like the one in the kitchen. That's where I entered.' The marquise lit the last candle. Next, she opened the trunk and pulled out a blanket. She spread her arms wide, checking the cloth for moths. Her movements were swift and full of purpose. But her thoughts circled around her patient and his miraculous vivacity. Naturally, she had interpreted Sebastian's refusal to be taken to hospital as a confession that he felt too weak to make that journey. From the moment she had seen the terrible gash in his ribcage she had wondered why he was still conscious in the first place. She was not going to tell him, of course. But someone of his slender build, with a bullet stuck that close to his heart and his remaining blood thinned with brandy, had every right to be comatose by now.

This butler, however, rested on the bed, propped on his elbow, watching her. 'I believe I know your reasons for not confronting your daughter with my request,' he said in a conversational tone.

'This discussion is at an end,' she told him firmly.

'Miss Elizabeth is a young girl engaged to a young man whom she truly loves but whose past is shrouded in mystery. That's one Gothic setting. Am I right to assume that you're afraid the Lady Elizabeth might be susceptible to wondrous ideas like the heroine in Austen's novel?'

'_Northanger Abbey,_' the marquise said with obvious dislike. 'A great literary example of the trouble a too vivid imagination might cause for a girl. To suspect one's own gallant of harboring a dark secret. - Is there a particular reason why you're smiling in this disagreeable way, butler?'

'I've known women like you,' he said and, though his smile did not vanish, it softened. 'Women that live entirely in the here and now. Isn't it so, marquise? A girl's fancy, the mannerisms of the noble women who line the walls at social events, trading gossip – these you don't have patience for. Life is not a novel, you found that out long ago.' He lowered his voice, 'Your belief was shaken only once. On that day you realized that it was possible for you to accept weakness when it showed in another. In a man.'

'Nonsense. A crying man is embarrassing and a nuisance.' The marquise approached to put the blanket on him.

'I'm not talking about men breaking down and cry,' the demon said, watching the soft cloth come down like a sail. 'I'm talking about your husband, the look in his eyes on that very first day. When he challenged you for a duel that he and his friends had so cleverly devised to win your heart - and at the moment he realized that you had defeated him.'

She narrowed her eyes, 'Why would you bring up that old story?'

'Well, it's worth remembering, isn't it?' He snickered. 'They had probably come up with many plans for a multitude of possible outcomes. But not for this. You took them completely by surprise. Do you remember the silence? The speechlessness?'

The marquise glared at him, 'What would you know about it? You were not even present.'

'Oh, but I can see it all so clearly.' The demon smiled. The thrill of the game quickened his pulse, 'Did he not crack a smile, marquise? Did he not open his arms in defeat, lay his sword at your feet? Did you not feel your heart miss a beat, when you realized that it was not because of the fight that you were too short of breath to speak?'

'What are we talking about a girl's vivid imagination? Yours is quite crazed.' She tucked in the blanket with brisk, stabbing movements, aware of the irritating gaze and making a point of ignoring it. _Her anger, so exquisite. Better than a swig of water or a cool breeze on a hot summer's day._ He had not had a sparring partner like her in a long time.

'I beg your pardon, but I did not make it up. You know this is how it came to pass.' Sebastian's voice had sunk to a half-whisper. 'You saw him before you, a handsome young man, a would-be king who had lost his crown. A perfect match, not too strong, but not weak either. Love is made of courage, marquise, but not only, and your heart had been praying for someone like Alexis to come your way, and you - '

'Insolence!' I will not be spoken to like this!'

'But you remember it now, marquise. The emotion. You're feeling it. You're smiling.'

There was a silence in which they only stared at each other, combatants that wielded their words as swords. Then she smiled icily, 'Touché, butler. You have driven your moral home. So, I will grant that it is possible to admit the extraordinary into one's life and still retain one's good judgment in other respects.' She shook her head. 'For you to manage that, butler - '

Sebastian heard no more. A searing pain ripped through his body as if his back was skinned and boned like a trout before serving. He gasped, he felt reality slip away. His mind did a disorienting backflip into darkness, and then he was - somewhere else.

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

Gasping at the sight of the moving painting, Grell Sutcliff flopped down on the desk. His eyes darted across the room. Though he could not find other familiar faces, he realized the paintings to be shockingly realistic. There was the impression of movement, limbs and bodies in slow, painstaking animation, and a sigh from countless throats lingered on the air.

Grell was up and racing over to Sebby-chan. And right there it was, the silver mesh that he had noticed before, but not cared to take a closer look at. It came out of the demon's back like the arms of a polyp and went into the wall, spreading in the stone like veins of mercury, or the roots of an evil form of poison ivy. Now Grell knew why Sebby-chan had endured the vicious lashing with his back pressed against the wall. The Lord High Judge's magical chains were effective indeed.

'I won't let it happen!' Maddened, Grell grabbed the silver tendrils. He put his foot to the wall and set to trying to uproot them. Something gave way as he pulled with all his strength, and ghostly feathers whirled in tighter clouds.

'Grell Sutcliff?' The morphing shadow of the demon had taken on solid form. A black-clad, dark-haired, amber-eyed butler's form, as his matter shaped itself according to mind's idea how its physical vessel should look like. Sebastian blinked his eyes like he was waking from a deep sleep. 'Will you stop doing that? It is extremely unpleasant.'

'It's going to be wonderfully red in a second.' Grell produced his death scythe. 'Don't fear. I'm going to cut you free!'

Sebastian craned his neck to look behind him, 'Oh dear,' he said, and then, eyes lighting up, 'What the hell - ?'

'No, not yet.' Spears returned to the scene and gave Sebastian a cool glance. 'You're still in a quite neutral corner. Hell unfolds over there.' He waved lazily in the direction of the painted demon spawn herding sinners into fiery abysses. 'Of course your position may yet change. In fact I'm quite certain it _will_ change as the true graveness of you offences is decided.'

Sebastian opened his mouth to comment. But an acute pain pierced his chest, and his vision blurred.

'A pity he had to leave,' said Spears and pushed up his glasses, as the solid form once more dissolved into the blindly raging shape of demonic essence.

Grell gestured in five directions at the same time, 'But Will – he's – the murals, they are - the wall, it's swallowing him – I've found Marvin – over there! See?'

'Shinigami O'Connell has been convicted and received his punishment.' Spears walked past his colleague. 'Whether this Michaelis-demon will share our man's fate is yet to be decided. It seems to me like the Lord High Judge may have been a bit rash in his judgment.'

'The interviews did not reveal evidence against Seb- against the accused?' asked Grell, resuming the role of the Lady Assessor.

'We're waiting for the bailiff's emissary to return with more information. But I came to ask the beast a couple of questions.' Careful not to touch the demon, Spears grabbed the silver tendons that connected the demon to the wall and gave them a yank.

* * *

The transfer was high-speed like his consciousness was fastened to the end of a snapping elastic. One moment Sebastian was in the court room, and in the next instant, he found himself staring at the stone ceiling of the secret room under Phantomhive Manor.

'What are you doing?' he asked, hoping he didn't sound as confused and dizzy as he felt.

The marquise stopped in her occupation of doing something painful to his wound. 'You suffered some kind of fit,' she said. 'You passed out, and your wound reopened. I am cleaning it now.'

He realized that she was using a sponge soaked in antiseptics to peel away the cloth of his shirt that stuck to the dried blood. 'Please, milady. It is not necessary for you to do this.'

'Nonsense. This wound needs treatment. Let go of my arm, butler.'

He did. But only because the elastic was pulled the other way, and Sebastian felt himself mind-flip back to the court room.

* * *

'There you are,' said Spears, watching their prisoner resume his human form. 'It's amazing, the way this magic works.'

Sebastian found himself spreadeagled against the wall. He imagined the magic bullet didn't like its captive getting away and was pulling the leash taut. He strained against it, but without much hope of pulling free. His tail-suit radiated the cold of the stonework and he realized that it had become part of the wall. There was now nothing left between him and the underlying fresco...and struggle though he might, he could not get out of the thing.

Spears stood before him and officiously opened a notebook. 'Investigation has reached a point where your statement is needed. Will you give us your side of the story? Tell us what came to pass on that day when you contracted your master.'

'I can't.'

'You mean you won't?'

'No, I mean there's this lightning pain, which means the marquise is pulling the strings and I'm out of time - '

Flip. And gone.

'Honestly,' said Spears irritably. Then he stepped forward and slashed his death scythe across the demonic form, about where Sebastian's heart would be.

* * *

'I told you,' said Sebastian, tired, 'You cannot remove that bullet. Only you daughter - '

'Well, I thought I'd take a look, now that the wound is clean.' The marquise gave him one of her silencing looks. 'Don't be a sissy, butler. You were not even conscious. This cannot have hurt.'

'You have no - '

* * *

' - idea,' Sebastian finished, speaking to the far left corner of the court room. 'This is starting to get on my nerves. Have you just slashed me across the chest? Don't you know that _hurts_? What's that stuff waving in front of me?'

'Since you were unavailable for an interview I took the liberty to set free your cinematic records,' Spears told him. 'We would have to check them anyway. To validate your statement.' He parted the uncoiling tapes with his death scythe like an adventurer probing his way in a dangerous jungle of aerial roots. 'But we're only allowed to look at the relevant minutes, seconds maybe.'

'Which makes it somewhat difficult to decide on the correct starting point,' chimed in Grell, a bundle of tapes in each fist.

'Good gracious,' spat Sebastian, feeling his control of his demonic temper slip away. 'It's been _three years_. Surely, you two must be able to sort out a three years worth of records?' He quickly bit his tongue before he could add, _What are you, apprentices to my cast of serving staff?_ He reached into the mass of tapes and gave them a quick survey. He could not believe he was doing this, looking at his own memories because right in the middle of their trespassing on just about everything sacred and private, a pair of shinigami were afraid to glean stuff they were not authorized to see. But that Midford woman was continuing her Samaritan effort at the other end of the elastic. So he'd better give the paper pusher and the pervert what they were after. Get them off his back.

'Here's your starting point.' He thrust a length of tape at Spears, just as renewed agony seized him. _What was the marquise doing, pulling out ribs to use for her corset?_ He coughed, he gasped, and once again, he flipped.

* * *

Five minutes later, an exhausted kind of quiet had returned. Sebastian lay on his back, trying to relax. The last flip made him return to the world of humans just as the marquise had finished binding his wound. The broken ribs had protested by sending out the stabbing pain that yanked him away from the shinigami. Now, he lay very, very still, mulling over the feeling that everyone in two worlds was out to hurt him and that he did not deserve it. Probably. Well, not in _that_ way. You give them the plague and they can get you turned into a blotch of tempera against a wall in return? _Oh, come on!  
_

'Come _on!_' he mumbled under his breath.

The marquise stood at the table, folding bandages. 'One of these days, hm, butler?'

'Just a – memory.' Sebastian turned his head toward the dark corridor leading to the servants' quarters. Just for a moment he thought he'd felt something there. But he was not sure about his sensation now.

'Tell me about it,' said the marquise. 'Or rather, tell me anything. Keep talking to me. It seems to help you stay connected.'

'I do not believe you would find this particular memory entertaining.'

'You know, somehow I believe you. Tell me about my nephew, then.'

'What would you want to know?'

'Your dedication to him exceeds even that of the most loyal butlers I ever met. And Ciel's trust in you seems nearly limitless. Why is that so?'

'I'm one hell of a butler. I guess that's all that needs to be said.'

'All that needs to be said,' the marquise echoed, 'Most definitely not. You are so much more than just butler. What is my nephew to you? Why would someone of your skill and ambiguous intent agree to come and serve an eleven-year-old orphan?'

Sebastian remembered the scene in the ceremonial room. The circle. The cage. The bruised, mortal boy with the large, desperate eyes. He spoke slowly as if reading the words off the ceiling. 'He did not cry. That's what fascinated me about him. He wasn't defeated. Despaired, yes. But not broken. I offered him my power and my devotion, and he accepted.'

'You're raving,' said the marquise casually. She had turned away from him and was busy with the water bowl. 'You make signing up to work for my nephew sound like he traded you his soul in return for your service.'

'Maybe I'd have done it anyway,' Sebastian insisted, irritated by her cool reaction. 'And maybe I'd even have done it for less. You've got to understand, the reward he offered was irresistible. I'm not talking about money. Nor about the killing of time or the meal he promised. Of course, at that time the prospect of the latter two seemed important. But there was more.' He paused, desperate to make her _see._ 'His spirit. His indomitable will, living in so small and frail a body.'

'A butler dedicates his life to his master,' she said. 'That is his commitment and his pride. But I always understood it also requires a certain kind of courage.'

'You can never be sure what you're in for,' Sebastian agreed. 'But the young master, he was worth every hassle. Still, I asked him. That's the way these things are done. And no matter what they say now, at that time he agreed. And he did so of his own free will. I never forced him to accept anything.'

'Well, you couldn't force him to do anything. He's your master. You're his butler.' The marquise applied a piece of wet cloth to his brow. The icy touch shut Sebastian up. He gazed at the ceiling, lying utterly still. Eventually, he blinked his eyes and said, 'Oh dear. It's moving.'

'I guess it would,' said the marquise airily.

Five more seconds passed.

Then -

'Correct me if I'm wrong.' Sebastian touched his hand to the cold cloth. 'But did you just make me confess that I am a slave to your nephew?'

'I guess I did.' The marquise smiled thinly and shrugged. 'You cannot play without turning tables once in a while.'

'Gosh, marquise, for you to manage that - ' Amber eyes turned her direction, large with surprise. 'I'm not quite myself this evening.'

'Really?' She shrugged again, in a self-satisfied way. 'Couldn't say I noticed.'

* * *

In the darkness of the corridor leading toward the servants' room, William T. Spears looked at his notes. He drew a large circle around the last statement that seemed of relevance: _"I never forced him to accept anything."_

He had not really expected to stay incognito and his manipulations to go unnoticed. But then, the beast's emotional involvement with its own past had proven most intense. Spears cast a secret look at the marquise. This mortal woman, she would make a fine colleague. She knew just how to ask the right questions, extract the right answers...

Whatever, his job here was finished.

Spears snapped his notebook shut and returned to the court room.

'Stop meddling with his cinematic records, Sutcliff,' he ordered. 'I got some very interesting quotes. – Oh, _honestly_! If you use those scissors on these tapes to insert a memory of you two love-boating to the song of nightingales and crickets, I'll have you walk the plank on that very same vessel.'

+++End of Chapter 5+++


	6. Devil May Care

Hi everybody, thanks for reading and for your reviews. Not much to say to this chapter, except that if you don't know my idea of "Sebastian's cousin" by now, you're invited to take a shot at my stories "Chains of Command" and "Siren's Call". Spears' mentioning him is really just a minor detail but one that I couldn't resist. :) Oh, and I think I finally figured out what Lau is doing there. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 6: Devil May Care+++

It was Tanaka who decided that bedtime for the young master had finally come, and he went to the library and told him so. Of course, Ciel's first question was as to Sebastian's whereabouts. The old servant sighed, and bowed, and told his young master that there was a... slight hold-up in the kitchen, more of an operations problem, well, a problem with the _deadbolt_, so...

'Sebastian can't open the door?' asked Ciel in all innocence, and that was, when Tanaka sighed, and Ciel got that creepy feeling down his spine, and he demanded that Tanaka accompany him not to his bedroom but to the kitchen. Now.

Like the marquise had before, they found Bard, Mey-Rin, Finny, Ran-Mao and Snake, and though the marquise had left almost twenty minutes ago, the servants were none the wiser as to possible solutions. But they faithfully delivered the marquise's message that the young master was not to interfere, that she would take care of it.

'Take care of what?' Ciel asked, and Bard lost no time to extend his self-accusation to him and give a detailed report of the happenings in the kitchen.

On hearing about Sebastian's injury, Lady Elizabeth gave a sob and threatened to sink to the floor. Ciel caught her and, irritably and somewhat huffing under the burden, turned to the chef, 'Look what you and your flourish detail have done, Bard!'

Bard, who had just intended to relate Sebastian's opinion that the young lady was the only person who could help him, fell silent.

'Please, don't blame Bard... I'll be alright, Ciel,' Lizzy muttered, burying her face against her fiancé's shoulder. But she still seemed weak, so Ciel lowered her to the floor and sat beside her, supporting her.

'What is Ran-Mao doing here?' he asked, noticing Lau's sister for the first time.

Blushing, Finny flickered a brief glance at the girl that nestled against his side, 'I don't know, young master. She's been following me around like she wanted to ask something. But she never did. And when I asked her, she didn't answer.'

Of course, Ran-Mao herself did not comment. She just fastened her two-handed grip on his arm and pulled up her naked legs some more as if she meant to say that she was here to stay and no power in this world, except her brother's order, could change that.

'Ran-Mao - ' began Ciel, but Mey-Rin interrupted, 'There's something moving behind the - '

Inside the kitchen, the deadbolt was pushed back. Lizzy stiffened her back as she recognized the sound of her mother's brisk movements and by long training did not want to show weakness to her relentless instructor. A key rattled, the lock creaked and the door opened. The marquise's eyes fell on her daughter sitting on the floor, and she quirked her eyebrows in a reproachful fashion.

'Aunt Frances!' Ciel climbed to his feet, helping Lizzy get up as well. 'Where's Sebastian?'

'He's asleep. Finally.' The marquise moved to stride past them. 'Have the carriage ready, Ciel. We'll send for a surgeon. Your butler needs urgent treatment.'

'Did Sebastian ask for that?' asked Ciel, baffled. 'Does he really want to be treated by a hum- by a physician?'

'It's no longer a question of what your butler wants.' The marquise searched the ranks of the waiting servants that hung on to her every word as if she were an angel of the flaming-sword type landed before them and speaking the Will of the Lord. 'Tanaka-san. The butler has appointed you as the servant best prepared for making a nocturnal journey to London.'

'I am honored by his judgment.' Tanaka bowed. 'I shall immediately go and harness the horses.'

'I appreciate your commitment,' said the marquise and nodded approval. Here, at last, was one servant she could work with. 'I am personally acquainted to some of the The Royal London Hospital's leading physicians. I'll put down a few lines for you to deliver to them. I do hope I can persuade them to undertake the journey at this late hour. - Elizabeth, you will retire for the night. The maid will tend you, since we did not bring Paula. Ciel, with both your butlers unavailable I hope the remaining servants can improvise. I would hate to learn that your routine was jeopardized by inept behavior.'

Her last sentence was spoken to Ciel but directed to them all, threat clearly intended. Whatever had come to pass between her and Sebastian, the marquise was not going to put up with any follies tonight. The servants and even her own daughter and nephew stood and watched her leave in utmost silence, as if one careless breath could bring her back and make her descend on the perpetrator, all ice and scolding.

And then –

'A secret entrance!' Bard, Finny and Mey-Rin rushed to the kitchen door and nearly got stuck when they tried to enter all three at once.

'Hey! Ouch!'

'Oof!'

'Where is it? Where is it? The hidden door?'

They fanned out and commenced their search: Finny crawled under the table, looking left and right. Mey-Rin opened one cupboard after the other, peered in and closed it again, making china and silver ware rattle. Bard walked in circles, looking important, thinking aloud, 'Now, where would one hide a secret door?'

'It's either a trap door or part of the walls,' said Ciel, exasperated. 'It's been opened just recently. Search the walls for irregularities. Mortar dust. Cracks.'

Immediately, all three began crawling on hands and knees or probing the walls like pantomime artists dressed up as harlequins and feeling their way along invisible obstacles. That kind of performance always gave Ciel the creeps. He wanted to shout at them to stop it now, but it was Lizzy who spoke first.

'Snake? What is your pet doing over there?' She pointed at a snake next to the fireplace that appeared to be trying to push into a crevice where wall and floor met.

'That corner smells of Black, says Emily,' said Snake after a few seconds silent conversation, or consideration, or whatever it was that allowed him to interpret for his pets.

Finny and Bard rushed in, nearly stepping on Emily who quickly wriggled out of the way.

'The beast is right,' said Bard, digging his nails into a thin vertical crack. 'Here's our secret door.' He stemmed his shoulder against the wall and in the next instant staggered out of sight when the door chose this of all moments to be opened from inside. Sebastian let the chef fall past him and looked after him as Bard stumbled on, over the first tread and down the steps. His interest was modest to slightly astonished, at best.

'I expected _someone_ to come looking for me,' he said. 'But I didn't think it would be the entire squad. - And you, young master and Miss Elizabeth.' He bowed, right hand clutching his chest.

'Aunt Francis said you were asleep,' Ciel said.

'The assumption was made on a sound basis of observation and standard physical checks. Still, it was incorrect, and I regret to not have rectified the marquise's impression on this point,' said Sebastian smoothly, lowering his bow until it seemed his nose would touch his legs.

'Please, Sebastian. Don't bow to us like that,' Lizzy said. 'It's causing you pain.'

'You are – observant – like your mother,' Sebastian said, carefully straightening his back to his usual ramrod position. Ciel wondered if the perceptible hitch in the demon's speech was also an incorrect impression that Sebastian would regret to not have rectified immediately. But even more he wondered...

'What's down there?' asked Ciel, peering into the shadowy corridor. Bard's moaning from down below gave the darkness a ghostly veneer.

'A secret room where the chef de cuisine would set up camp in times of excess work, young master.'

'A refuge.' Ciel started to descend the stairs. 'Just what we need to clear matters up a bit. Everybody – let's get to the bottom of things.' A sharp sound from Lizzy made him turn around just as his foot touched the first tread. 'What is it?'

Then he saw: She had used the moment when Sebastian was talking to him to reach for the butler's right hand, the one he had been clutching to his chest as he bowed.

The glove was sopping bloody.

Sebastian did not seem surprised, or shocked, and he even used his left hand to steady her when she swayed, 'Careful, milady.'

'Sebastian, that wound, you're bleeding through the bandages my mother applied - ' She looked up at him with large, dark eyes. 'How can you live with that?'

'Please, my lady,' said Sebastian meeting her look with a level gaze of his own. 'Believe in miracles just long enough to accept that you are the only one who can work one on me now.'

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

The tribunal had come together on request of the chief prosecutor, and four hooded figures took their seats at the mahogany desks. Under the domed ceiling, the convicts continued their agonizing, slow march toward their final doom like model orbs revolving in a colorful, bizarre planetarium.

The Lady Assessor waved a short greeting at one particular form - 'Hi, Marv!' - and put a file to her long fingernails. The bailiff looked at the demon, the essence of the culprit. It was still moving, still fighting, but there could be no doubt that it was losing power of motion. Not much longer now, and like a fly in a spider's web it would be helplessly entangled, become one with the wall and starting its ascent to whatever corner of the mural it was designated for.

The chief prosecutor put his notebook an the table and the movement of his hood suggested that he looked at every member of the illustre gathering in turn.

'Honestly,' he said, 'I wish I had more decisive evidence to present. But fact is - there is none. And I am starting to wonder if this is going to lead us anywhere.'

'You were asked to join this tribunal for your general opinion on the demon spawn, and your personal experience with the specimen in question,' said the Lord High Judge. 'Just present us with the facts and leave it up me to decide on this court's "success".'

The prosecutor took up his notebook. His voice was icy, he clearly did not approve of the Lord High Judge's comment, 'Let me put it this way: I talked to other spawn, I talked to humans that are or have been in contact with the culprit. I went as far back as seventy-four human years. The witness, a ninety-two-year-old crone still praised the beast's talents at dancing the Viennese Waltz.' The prosecutor scanned his notes. 'Seems like he caused a commotion when he asked her to dance, though. Something about her being engaged to an influential and emotional youth and the beast having fallen out with her father over some political issue. More than one duel ensued from that one dance. There were two casualties and a political crisis to follow. Tsar Alexander nearly backed out of negotiations and for at least half an hour, Talleyrand seriously considered siding up with Prussia. The whole Congress was in jeopardy.'

'What, all for a dance?' asked the Lord High Judge. 'That's pretty neat for just one demon, isn't it?'

'Troy was eventually razed for one single human's decision to give away an apple,' said the prosecutor. 'Honestly, it all depends on the characters involved, and how they respond to the beast's manipulations.'

'And on who's the dancer,' said the Lady Assessor.

The prosecutor returned to his notes, 'But what's important for us is: The witness insists on her opinion. The original request to the scandalous performance on the dance floor was delivered due to all social standards and rules of decency. The beast even went to some pains to make sure he asked in a short, rare moment when no-one was overhearing them. There can be no doubt that the beast arranged for the opportunity to present itself. But the decision was all hers. She could've said no.'

'I see,' said the Lord High Judge sourly, 'About the current relations...?'

'Even less compromising. One of the humans, an Indian butler, even referred to the beast as "friend".' The prosecutor raised his hand under his hood, presumably to push up his glasses. 'When he realized I was on an official errand he summoned, eh, some kind of divine powers and, er, threatened to resort to violence.'

'Violence? Against a shinigami?'

'He, er, didn't care. He claimed that the goddess he served was the strongest of all. In fact, he, er, gained a precision and speed that are not natural to his rather sluggish species.' _He nearly punched me in the nose,_ the prosecutor thought. But he would not say that aloud.

'There was another human, an Indian boy, the fighter's master. He stopped the aggression and asked what I wanted to know. When he understood that this was about a possible revocation of the contract between the Phantomhive boy and his butler, he told his servant to instantly decapitate me with an Indian ceremonial ax that was blessed by Mitra, an Indian god of friendship. He was desolate to hear that they didn't have such a blade in the house, so he ordered his servant to go and find an authorized priest. I couldn't stay around to wait and took my leave.'

'I see,' said the Lord High Judge. 'What about the supernaturals you talked to?'

The chief prosecutor flipped a couple of pages in his notebook, 'There was another beast who dubs himself the culprit's cousin. He basically stated that he, hm, would rather take the culprit's place than see him convicted.'

(Again he was not completely outspoken. What Sebastian's cousin had put on record was an envious sigh and the wisecrack observation that some guys always got all the fun. Preferably those who didn't know _that it was meant to be fun_ in the first place. Then he had asked the prosecutor to turn around for a second, and when the prosecutor asked what for, he told him that he wanted to take measure of the prosecutor's posterior now. Because he would kick him in the butt as soon as he learned that the prosecutor had as much as harmed a hair on his cousin's head, and why didn't the prosecutor go and hug, like, yes - a giant squid?)

The prosecutor shook himself, and went on with business, 'I also interviewed a witness that I personally set high hopes on. You see, he once served in the shinigami ranks - '

'I can imagine your eagerness to talk to him. What did he say?'

'Er, nothing. He just listened to the case, then he started to laugh. He wouldn't stop. He laughed and laughed until tears were streaming down his face. He said that he could blame the Phantomhive butler for lots of things. But not for a lack of seriousness. Which he claimed to be one possible reason why they, as he said, "didn't get along too well".'

(And he had gotten up from his chair and given the reluctant prosecutor and humongous hug, screaming-laughing-crying that this had very likely been the funniest thing he'd heard in years and if there was anything, any information the prosecutor needed, he was welcome to return and ask his questions. _But not - repeat: _not_ - regarding the Phantomhive butler. Back off, boy. He's mine, and mine alone to deal with. _And suddenly there was this really huge death scythe, and the prosecutor would have pointed out that it was unlawful property, but, honestly, you didn't argue with someone holding that thing. Not without an army of clerks-in-charge to back you up.)

But this, the prosecutor would not speak about.

'I see,' said the Lord High Judge. 'Isn't there anything useful for getting that Michaelis demon take his rightful place on our wall?'

'His slate is as clean as the silver dishes he serves his master's food on,' said the bailiff, thereby drawing the attention to himself.

'Well, what about your emissary?' asked the Lord High Judge. 'Didn't you announce to have some information of your own?'

'I own to have made a statement to this effect,' said the bailiff. 'But who will know whether the information will be mine to share? Gentleman. Lady. I am mortal and this talk is draining me. Allow me to take my leave for now.' And he got up and left, moving with easy grace that would have suited an angel - or demon for that matter.

'Honestly. Who's responsible for bringing that mortal on this court?' asked the prosecutor.

'I am,' the Lord High Judge said sourly. 'It was his condition for providing something I needed.'

'Actually,' said the prosecutor, 'there is one single statement that might prove we're on to something. I would like to hear your opinion on it.'

* * *

The secret room beneath the kitchen was getting crowded, but no one wanted to miss the story. Ciel's order made Sebastian lie on the bed. Then, the earl stood at his butler's side while the lady was offered the comfort of the only chair. The servants stood at a decent distance, but each told what they knew about this strange day's affairs and gradually, the puzzle came together.

It revealed a picture that was not at all to the young master's liking.

'Get real, Sebastian,' said Ciel, running his hand over his hair. 'Lizzy's a lady. She cannot cut a bullet from a man's - from _anyone's_ chest,' he corrected seeing the objection in the demon's eyes.

'But what if it was your chest,' said Lizzy.

Ciel's head snapped up, 'Huh? My - ?'

'A wife should be able to assist her husband in all situations,' said Lizzy. 'We might get caught in an accident, someday, somewhere when there's no medical assistance available. Mother says, at a time like that, it will become my responsibility to safe your life.'

'An farseeing woman, your mother,' said Sebastian, smiling enigmatically. 'Lady Elizabeth? How about a little bargain?'

'Wait - what?' said Ciel, automatically.

The demon went on, 'You can practice your anatomical skills on my injury, while I benefit from your talent which I do not doubt in the least you possess?'

'Listen,' hissed Ciel, 'You're not going to strike a deal with my fiancé! You're not going to take up room in her life, her home, filling it from wall to wall with your presence like you did with mine - '

'Young master?' Sebastian tapped his finger on Ciel's shoulder and pointed at something behind him. Ciel turned.

Lizzy and the servants stared at him blankly.

'Er...' Ciel said lamely, 'I, er, really need you here, Sebastian. Please, don't quit service with me.'

'Ciel, I want to make sure he gets well, not entice him away.'

'Wh- what if you, Lizzy, I really hate to say it, but - what if something happens and you _kill him_?'

'Then I will be dead,' said the demon. 'But I don't think that's likely to happen.'

'Well, I _could_ cause some permanent damage,' said Lizzy.

'I beg your pardon, but you already did. If that bullet stays in, I shall never be the same.'

'But I - ' She was running out of arguments, and Sebastian seized her moment of insecurity and held something up in front of her face, a tool, small and shiny. 'I trust you will find these helpful.'

'What, a pair of sugar tongs?' Ciel blurted out.

'Unsurpassed in their capacity to grab at bullet-sized objects that got stuck in tight environments,' deadpanned Sebastian.

Lizzy accepted the tongs, frowning. 'We need to sterilize them.'

Sebastian closed his eyes, 'They're as sterile as they need to be.'

'But you carried them up your sleeve.'

'It's okay, Lizzy,' said Ciel who had not missed the tone of urgency in the demon's voice. 'If he says so. Sebastian? How about an anesthetic?'

Sebastian cast a quick glance at Bard, 'Bard here can confirm that I imbibed enough brandy to largely provide for freedom of pain.'

'That's probably right,' said Bard, scratching his head.

'But when you just bowed to the young master, you clutched your chest,' said Finny timidly.

Sebastian glared at him. '...provide for a _devil-may-care attitude_, then,' he snapped.

'Well, it's your choice.' Ciel shrugged. Lizzy already bent over the wound. She felt her heard pound in her chest, and she silently prayed for her mother to advise her now. She swallowed hard, controlling her fear and her nausea and started to remove the soaked bandages. Bard's story had prepared her for the sight of the gash, but she still paled. Beside her, Ciel gulped dryly. 'You're not going to dig - into that?'

'Ciel?' Lizzy hesitated. 'Will you do something for me?'

'Sure. Whatever - '

'Turn around, then. This is something I have to do, for Sebastian, and for you, and also for myself, I guess. But it's going to be ugly and engrossing and - and I don't want you to see me do it.' Her voice and eyes pleaded with him. 'Ciel, I never want to be anything but lovely to your eyes...'

'I know, Lizzy. I know.' Ciel turned around, thinking how everyone meant to spare him disturbing sights when he was probably the one who had seen the most disturbing thing of all - a demon striking a toothy you-called-me-and-I-have-come pose before setting off like an arrow, ripping apart all those that Ciel's wish for revenge encompassed. But more than that, Ciel would never forget the look on the demon's face when he came to a halt, searching for and not finding any more people to kill. He had passed his eyes over the ranks of mutilated bodies, and then he turned back to the boy, and then, an epitome of arrogance and sarcasm, he _smiled_.

When you've seen something like this, you're not very likely to flinch from any sight a mere mortal might throw at you.

But Ciel turned obediently, facing the servants who stared back at him, worried.

Lizzy made sure Ciel obliged, then she touched the tongs to the wound. Gently, she worked her way in, her heart crying with sympathy. She expected Sebastian to moan, or to scream, or at least to twitch a muscle. But he didn't. Lizzy looked up to check on him, and he looked back, even smiled reassuringly at her. 'Get it out, milady. No matter how you do it.'

She poked a little more, and then - 'Ciel! Look at that!'

'You want me to - ?'

'Please, come here!'

Ciel hurried to her side and gasped: There was a mesh of silver threads like a second heart in his butler's chest. Gleaming tendrils grew out from a massive centre and disappeared into the tissue. The original bullet's form was still discernible in the centre ball of veins, but its elements were dissolved like hot lead, and the process seemed to be going on: Ciel thought he could sense movement in the metallic web as if the tendrils were still extending, increasing in numbers, thriving like evil vines as they infiltrated muscles and wrapped around bones.

'How am I going to get this out?' asked Lizzy, sounding despondent.

'How would I know? You're the one spending your time doing fancywork and embroidery,' Ciel snapped. 'Surely, you must know how to disentangle a couple of threads?' He immediately regretted his harsh words. _Speaking of epitomes of sarcasm..._

'Don't shout at me, Ciel, please.' Lizzy stuck the tongs back in, hands trembling. 'I'll try, Ciel. I - '

'I know you will, Lizzy. I'm sorry.'

'No, I'm sorry, Ciel, I - ' Lizzy grimaced, then recoiled. 'I damaged something.'

The silver mesh she worked on was quickly covered by fresh blood pooling in the wound. Sebastian gave a small wheezing sound, the only indication that the new bruise hurt like hell. Lizzy gave him a quick, checking look. Then she said very matter-of-fact, 'Ciel? Turn around, please.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Well, pinch the artery shut, of course.'

'But - '

'With my _fingers_, Ciel.'

Ciel was sort of sorry he'd meant to ask.

* * *

THE COURT ROOM

'So, you're saying that except for one critical comment from a servant you haven't been able to procure any compromising statement.' The angel was obviously unsatisfied with Spear's performance. But the shinigami would not be intimidated.

'I would love to see the beast taken off the street,' he informed the angel. 'But there are rules. Regulations. And just as these convicts,' he pointed at the painted creatures rising towards the silver-lined clouds, 'have the possibility of parole, and these over here,' he pointed at the hordes dwindling toward their fiery end, 'have lost all hope of redemption in this world, there are still those who must be released on the grounds that there is simply nothing that can be held against them.'

Angela realized that her clever plan of recruiting a bureaucrat with the zeal of a bloodhound might not have been the wisest of course after all. Now that Spears had failed at producing the necessary evidence to condemn Sebastian, he seemed about to turn tables and become the demon's ardent advocate. This shinigami actually seemed to get his kicks from obeying rules down to the last letter of the most convoluted footnote.

'Then you accept him to return to the world of humans and continue with his unholy existence?' Angela studied the demon's shapeless struggles. Not much fight in him now, she realized. And it was not just because large parts of him had already melted into the fabric of the stone, limiting his ability to claw and rage and generally move. Sebastian seemed to hold his breath, play dead, pretend to make himself unobtrusive. He actually hung a little ludicrously, like a big, black cloud lurking stealthily over the head of some cartoon character waiting for the opportunity to rain off.

Spears said, 'I accept the fact that someone, sometime decided to grant his kind their existence. Whether its unholy or not, I don't decide. I shall gladly file my personal opinion when it is asked for.'

Lurking. That's what it was.

Angela reached out and touched the demon with the tip of her whip.

A silver tendril snapped, part of the demon lashed out and almost knocked the weapon out of her hand.

'What the hell - ' Spears pushed up his glasses. 'I was sure that part of his essence was fixated by now.'

'Let me check!' Angela suddenly was in a hurry.

'Check what?'

'She wouldn't dare! She's just a stupid, prissy girl. Sugar and spice, as the saying goes!' Angela thought again. 'Just how much spice are you made of, little girl?'

Spears didn't know what she was talking about. But he didn't get to ask, because the angel spread her wings and in the next moment was gone.

+++End of Chapter 6+++


	7. Keeper of Truth

Hi, everybody. I meant to be back earlier, but I've been too busy and this chapter is kind of setting the direction for the finale, so I really spent some time thinking about it. There really is a German writer, E.T.A. Hoffmann. His short stories were considered suspenseful and scandalous in the 19th century, featuring vampires, _doppelgaenger _and all kinds of inexplicable apparitions. Most of his main characters end up losing their marbles - if ever they had them, to begin with.

Oh, and if you haven't done so, I can recommend reading Tolkien's 'Lord of the Rings'. It's epic. I bow before the master.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji (Black Butler) and I do not hold any rights to Sebastian, Ciel , Lizzy or any of the characters I use in this story. I do not make money out of this.

* * *

+++Chapter 7: Keeper of Truth+++

Lizzy thought that she was really getting proficient at this job. Using the discipline her mother's fencing lessons had taught her, she managed to focus on the task ahead, which was to disentangle a mesh of silver weaving. _Nothing more, and nothing less._ She tried to forget about the blood on her hands and dress, and she closed her mind to the fact that it was Sebastian's body she was poking around in. She had checked on him a few times in the beginning. But he had always met her eyes with that calm gaze and encouraged her to continue.

But it turned out that initiating the magic to work was easier done than stopping it. At some point, Lizzy had begun to pick up random tendons of silver with her pair of tongs and simply pulled to see where that would get her. As she did, Sebastian grabbed hold of the bed frame the better to counteract the force she was exerting. His face stayed relaxed as if this was a boring affair. He never gave a sound of pain although she knew that her surgery had him in agony. It had to, unless he was akin to someone like the angel lady... and heaven alone knew why he still hung on to consciousness with such determination.

'I'm sorry,' Lizzy informed him as she selected another silver thread. It had become her way of saying 'Brace yourself.' Sebastian went rigid, but Lizzy saw that he stared at the far corner of the room.

She followed his gaze and almost dropped her pair of tongs.

The angel lady stood at the far wall, a figure so white it almost looked like there was a source of light within her very body. In her left hand she held a long whip. Her wings were folded on her back; the room was too limited for her to properly use them. Her eyes were not friendly, and her voice, so soft and persuasive when she had told Lizzy how to use the magical bullet, cut like a diamond blade, 'Elizabeth. What are you doing, child?'

Lizzy froze. There was a rustle among the servants, and Ciel said out loud, 'Angela!'

'Don't you trust me, child?' Angela purred. 'Don't you recognize the Fiend, not even when he cringes with pain beneath your hands?' Then, looking at the demon and rather sardonical, 'You _are_ cringing with pain, aren't you, Sebastian?'

Her whipcord uncurled and dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Getting ready to lash.

The Phantomhive servants sprang into action. It wouldn't have taken their young master's shouted order, but it certainly added ambition to their attack. Bard tackled Angela's legs, attempting to trip her. Finny got hold of her arms, sobbing, 'So-sorry.' He still could not forget the tender feelings he had once felt for the maltreated 'maid', Angela's appearance at their first meeting. May-Rin's hand darted to the two revolvers she carried in the folds of her dress. Trying to get an aim on Angela, she decided with a professional's judgement that she could not fire her weapons without endangering her friends. So she tucked them away again and jumped on the angel's back instead. Wrapping her arms around Angela's neck, she tried to assist Bard's continuing attempt at unbalancing her. But even their combined effort showed no effect.

Angela gave a shrill, callous laugh and stepped forward, dragging along all three humans as if their weight meant nothing to her. Her whip curled on the floor like the tail of an attentive cat. Her gaze was fixed on Lizzy and Sebastian, and Ciel saw murder gleam in those amethyst eyes. The blood in his veins turned to ice, and he gave a warning cry, 'Lizzy! Hurry!'

'Can't!' Lizzy was beyond sobbing, she was working too feverishly. She felt she had her tongs secured on something now, and she pulled with all her strength.

Sebastian was by no means impressed, and so, unfortunately, was the magic that held him prisoner. He eyed the advancing angel increasingly concerned, 'Young master, please allow me to get the angel, before _someone_ gets hurt...'

Ciel quickly assessed his servants' performance, 'No, Sebastian. Let Lizzy finish.'

'But - '

'Don't move before Lizzy's finished. That's an order. I won't stand her going through all this from the beginning once more.' For lack of better ideas and maybe on account of a surge of heroism in the face of his fiancé, Ciel moved to stand between the angel and Lizzy. 'Lizzy. We're running out of time!'

'_You've turned around, Ciel,'_ Lizzy complained.

He moved to look over his shoulder, 'I didn't! I just wanted to say - '

'There! You did it again!' She sniveled. 'You promised you'd not see me like this!'

It was maddening, the way her personality kept oscillating between the practicality required and the cuteness that was her private measure of things.

Sebastian and Ciel replied uni-sono,_ 'Miss Elizabeth...' - 'Lizzy!'_

But it was Ran-Mao who acted. She leaped forward, stood behind Lizzy and wrapped her arms around the noble girl's waist.

'Oh?' Lizzy looked at the slender, yet strong hands clasped over her stomach. She quickly made up her mind about the moral implications: If this kind of help had been offered by a man, decency would've required her to refuse – to scream and slap and faint, in fact. But since it was another girl touching her like this it was probably alright, and -

Wordless, Ran-Mao raised her right leg. Her flowing dress shifted and revealed her naked skin. She didn't mind and put her tiny foot against the bed for better leverage.

'No,' Lizzy protested, realizing what the girl was up to. 'No, stay out of this, Ran-Mao. This is what I must do.' Lizzy fastened her grip and went for Sebastian's wound again. Pride welled up in her with hot determination. 'I - am Elisabeth Midford - daughter of - the Marquis Midford!' (Sebastian's eyes widened with surprise and his hands tightened about the wooden beam he used for support.) 'And if this is what I must do, _then I'll do it._' Lizzy all but shouted. For the first time, she was at her task with all of her heart, and she felt that she was indeed achieving effects, she felt something give...

Angela rushed forward.

Ciel raised his fists, painfully aware of how small and insignificant even his best effort had to be when matched against the power in the angel's pinkie.

And then –

'You cannot pass.' A slender figure rose in front of Ciel and blocked Angela's way. '_You cannot pass!_' it thundered again, spreading its arms wide. It hesitated. 'Says Hoffmann,' it added, thereby definitely losing some of the effect.

'Snake! What are you doing? Get out of the way!'

Snake turned, casting Ciel a glance that bespoke of both, complete inability to explain what he was doing or why – and the realization that he could not help it anyway. 'I am the Guardian of the High Court. I am the Keeper of Truth,' he thundered and added in that same timid voice, 'Says Hoffmann.'

'Er, yes,' said Ciel, exchanging a baffled glance with Angela, 'and Hoffmann is...?'

A green snake lifted its head over Snake's shoulder. It was the particular pet that he had told the other servants about in their intimate round of "Strange things that happened to me today": It had approached him in the forest, just as everyone was breaking camp and preparing to return to Phantomhive manor. It had introduced itself as 'Hoffmann', naming itself after a German writer of phantastical stories in the beginning of the 19th century. Ciel had supplied that said E. T. A. Hoffmann, with his focus on the inexplicable and uncanny, had influenced Poe's writing and even reached as far as Russian romanticism, Dostoevsky and Gogol.

Snake had been delighted; but now it seemed that the demon of his new acquaintance had caught up with him. 'Without me, no convict is really condemned,' he intoned, 'Without me, no innocent goes free. All sentences must bear up against me, says Hoffmann.'

'Yes, I know your type of spirits,' said Angela. 'Seems like every powerful artifact nowadays has its own Jiminy Cricket. Ensuring morally inoffensive use or something like that...'

The snake hissed at her.

'Your intentions are not inoffensive, and your idea of my function is slightly off the mark, and you cannot pass, says Hoffmann,' Snake interpreted.

'You'd better listen to that reptile, lady,' said Bard, still clinging to her legs. 'He may sound a little theatrical, but he's got a point.'

With a jolt, Angela opened her wings and kicked off. The Phantomhive servants immediately lost their footing and went, 'Whoa!' - 'Yeeep!' - 'Hold on, everybody!', as they kicked, and struggled, and dangled helplessly.

'Watch it! She can - ' Snake dodged Angela's whip and got up again, '_fly, you fools!_' he concluded his warning, and, inevitably, added, 'Says Hoffmann.'

There was a sound like wet weeds being ripped apart, a sharp gasp, thumping noises, and then Lizzy staggered backwards into Ciel. He closed his arms about her, cradling her shoulders and head against his body protectively. Two feet away, Ran-Mao scrambled to her feet and dove for cover.

Angela raised her whip, and at that moment, something large and black flew past and tackled her in mid-air. Suddenly, there was blood on the floor, and blood on the angel, and droplets of blood even sprinkled Ciel's face and Lizzy's blonde hair like spray raindrops, as they stared in shock.

'Sebastian,' breathed Ciel, then realized that his voice had caught in his throat. But what would he have gained by shouting, anyway?

Lizzy's last effort had torn the silver mesh from the demon's flesh. At the same instant that Lizzy had finished – and therefore in perfect accordance with his master's order - Sebastian went for the angel. He lunged and locked his arms around Angela's waist, hurling her backwards with the momentum of the impact. Angela hissed in fury, and while the two supernaturals already had their nails and teeth dug into each other, the humans about them simply got swept along. Ciel glimpsed his servants looking really shocked and a bit stupid at what was happening to them. Then his vision was filled with blinding light: There was Snake, standing very straight and with his arms spread wide, radiating white brilliance like a whole storage room of magnesium going off in an instant.

There was a shrill scream that bespoke of hatred and anger. There were dull noises as of heavy bodies connecting with the wall and slumping to the ground, shuffling of limbs, groans of pain. Ciel and Lizzy clung to each other, squeezing their eyes shut. Still, the merciless brightness crept through their eyelids, giving a carmine red glow to what should have been darkness.

Then, the light faded. The shuffling and groaning stopped.

Ciel cracked an eye open, and found Snake and his pets lying senseless on the floor. Only Hoffmann was still moving, and he was moving fast indeed, slithering toward a silver object on the floor: It was the magical bullet Lizzy had dropped as she tumbled against Ciel. It was back in its perfectly rounded shape. No trace of use or blood was left on its shiny surface – probably, Ciel reflected darkly, a prerogative of the truly powerful artefacts. Hoffmann curled lovingly around the little globe, caressed it with his body.

His body that was suddenly crushed by a slender foot in a sandal.

Ran-Mao looked down at the reptile. She cocked an eyebrow as if she was curious what it would do next. The twisting movement of her heel suggested she was grinding Hoffmann's ribs into bone dust. But his mouth was intact, and with an effort that looked like one last death throe he took the silver bullet in and swallowed it.

Ran-Mao swept the reptile up, as with her other hand she broke a thin vial. Thin white smoke evaporated, and Ran-Mao inhaled it deeply. When only an eye-blink later she sank to the floor, she still held Hoffmann by his neck. Ciel assumed that, if Snake had been able to interpret right now, he'd have a lot to relate about comparative sizes and the bitter irony of fate that allowed a Keeper of Truth to be done in at the drop of a hat - or rather: a heel.

'Ciel,' said Lizzy, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. 'What does it all mean?'

They looked around themselves: The small room was littered with bodies. There were Snake and his pets, felled by whatever magic the green snake had forced on its messenger. There were Bard, Finny and May-Rin, lying in crumpled heaps, knocked out by magic and the heads-on collision with the wall.

There was Sebastian, motionless, and there was no sign of Angela.

'Sebastian!' Ciel started forward, and Lizzy followed. She had for the moment completely forgotten about the way she looked that Ciel was not supposed to see - tousled and soiled with Sebastian's blood; and Ciel didn't care. They fell to their knees on opposite sides of the demon's inert body.

Sebastian lay on his side, with his face turned toward the floor. Ciel grabbed his shoulders and cautiously turned him around. Sebastian offered no resistance as he rolled on his back. His eyes were closed, his face was serene and relaxed.

'Is he dead?' Lizzy asked, her voice shaking.

'No. No, he can't be.' _I didn't order him to_ _die_. Ciel gave the demon a shake. 'Sebastian? Sebastian! Do you hear me?'

Sebastian did not reply, which was probably just another way of saying 'no'. Ciel shook him again. Sebastian's head shifted a little, turning slightly to the right. Then, Ciel realized something that nearly freaked him out: The demon was breathing. Right now, Sebastian's body inhaled - softly, deeply, like someone who'd been under water and held his breath for too long. On impulse, Ciel gave the demon another shake. The order to wake up was stuck in his throat, he couldn't speak: If Sebastian saw any reasons for playing dead he would do so - including putting a temporary stop to his lungs' function. Ciel had seen him do it before and wouldn't have minded at all. But if Sebastian insisted on playing dead while continuing to breathe, then he wasn't playing at all. Then he was -

'Sebastian? You not really out, are you?'

Lizzy's hand was Ciel's arm, 'Ciel, I believe you – you're hurting him.'

He stopped shaking, but he still insisted, 'Sebastian, open your eyes.'

Sebastian did - and Ciel quickly slapped his hand on the demon's face: Red irises around vertical pupils was nothing he wanted Lizzy to see at this stage. Even though the reflex that narrowed the demon's pupils was a little slow, and for interminable moments they looked rather elliptical than slit.

'Oh-okay,' said Ciel, 'You may close them again...'

Sebastian did, his long eyelashes butterfly-kissing his master's palm. He continued to breathe, softly, in and out...

'Alright.' Ciel looked about, 'He shouldn't stay here. I don't think the floor is a comfortable place to rest.'

'Maybe we can lay him on the bed?' suggested Lizzy timidly.

'Let's try.' Ciel grabbed the demon under the armpits. Lizzy lifted Sebastian's legs by the ankles and looked at Ciel for directions. Ciel started to shuffle backwards. Lizzy followed. 'Carefully – no, wait. Slowly. _Slowly I say._ Oh, sh-oot, he's heavy!' Ciel lowered Sebastian to the floor and gestured for Lizzy to come to his side. 'Let's try another way. Take his arm.'

'Yes,' she agreed, once more the obedient betrothed. Together, they dragged Sebastian to the bed. They propped him up against the wood and the mattress and caught their breath.

'I'm beginning – to think – the floor is – not to be sniffed at - as a - place to rest,' huffed Ciel.

Lizzy looked shocked by the implication, 'Oh, Ciel! Poor Sebastian.'

'I was – considering it – for – myself,' puffed Ciel, realizing at the same time how comparably unaffected by the physical challenge his fiancé was. _Got to pay more attention to those fencing lessons. Got to build up stamina._ Ciel pulled himself up and measured the height of the mattress with his eyes. _Stamina? Hell, I hope I'll never have to hoist around my own butler ever again! That's_ his_ job, after all!_ 'Okay now, heave. On my command. I'm counting to three. One – tw- ' Lizzy heaved, and Ciel landed face-down on the mattress. He found his nose in the stuffy pillow and his right arm flung across Sebastian's collarbone and neck. He retrieved it, raised onto his elbow and glowered, 'I told you to wait till three.'

'No, you said you'd count to three,' Lizzy objected. 'I thought you wanted him up there by then.'

Ciel sighed. 'Well, we almost got him up here, so let's give it one last effort.'

'Yes, Ciel,' Lizzy agreed readily.

_If he'd needed any further proof of Sebastian's being out cold, this would've been it,_ Ciel mused as he grabbed his butler's legs. If the demon were in any state to feel how he was being pushed and pulled and shoved across the floor – or to hear what was spoken in the wake of that undertaking, he'd be choking with laughter. No chance, he'd be able to maintain this enervating regular flowing of breath.

Ciel and Lizzy pushed a little more, and they pulled a little harder. Ciel climbed on the bed to haul the demon's weight from high ground – Lizzy gave the affair one more shove, and then another, and eventually, Sebastian lay on the bed.

They rested for a moment, catching their breath. Only then did they look up, scanning the room as if they'd completely forgotten they didn't exist in the void of space, doomed forever to handle the dead weight of a demon who'd bumped his head.

'Look!' Lizzy pointed at the servants. 'They still don't move.'

'We can't do anything for them,' said Ciel. 'Or rather – even if there was something we could do, I'm not sure we should. Ran-Mao - that snake called Hoffmann - they all seemed to know what they were doing.' He pulled himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out his hands across the mattress and the demon to Lizzy. 'I'm prepared to hope their actions were meant to be helpful in some way or the other.'

_They had better be, Lau_, he swore silently, remembering Ran-Mao's sandal-clad foot crushing the green snake. _If you want your business in Britain to continue you'd better not send your... sister to betray me._

Lizzy shuddered as she pulled the chair over and sat down. 'You mean we should simply sit and wait?'

'I think Sebastian needs us to do just that.' Ciel looked at his butler's face as if he silently begged for confirmation.

'He looks curiously young when he's sleeping like that,' Lizzy said. 'Do you know how old Sebastian is?'

'I never bothered to ask.' _But she was right,_ Ciel thought, as he studied the solemn features with new interest. And it reminded him of the texts he'd consulted, back in the early days when he was trying to figure out what he had gotten himself into. One of the more prominent theories of demonology stated that supernatural beings did not have corporeal forms of their own. They needed to invade those of physical creatures. They had to take possession of bodies. Back then, Ciel had wondered if that was what 'Sebastian' had done, years, decades, centuries ago – taken possession of a human body he deemed suitable for becoming his mind's vessel.

Seeing him looking so different now, made the theory almost stand to reason. Shivering, Ciel recalled what had been his prominent question , back then:

If it was true, if some youth had - for one reason or the other - given his body over, what deal had come with the transaction? What had been the demon's conditions? _Surrender your body, and I will spare your soul when it comes to the last? Surrender your body, so that part of you may survive when I claim my due? -_

Desperately considering these question, Ciel had hoped to save himself from ever blacker doom than he already was in for...

'There's no way we can avoid it, is there, Ciel?'

'S- sorry?' Jolted from deep thought, Ciel looked up and realized that Lizzy had taken his hands. 'Wha- what do you mean?'

'We'll go back, won't we?' she repeated. 'The angel lady will make us dream of that hideous place, that court room, again.'

'If she does, Lizzy, I want you to understand that this time I'll take Sebastian's hand if they present me with the choice.' Ciel could not look her in the eye as he told her. He squeezed her fingers. 'It is a decision I made a long time ago. There's no denying it now.'

'I know, Ciel.' She really did. She was Elizabeth Midford, designated wife of Earl Phantomhive, the Queen's watchdog. One of the things you needed to understand in order to live up to that responsibility was your fiancé's curious dependence on his servants. Lizzy still failed to see the entire picture. But she knew that when she had helped Sebastian, she had done it as much – maybe even more – for Ciel than for the black butler's sake.

As the silence between them continued, their entwined hands sunk down until they came to rest on Sebastian's stomach, right below the demon's crushed sternum. They could feel him breathing, his chest rising and falling in tranquil pattern. They watched the great gash healing, blood drying up, tissue healing and new skin covering the grisly sight. Even his shirt was in the process of mending itself.

'At this rate, I don't even have to bandage him,' Lizzy said, attributing the healing to the magic she had already seen at work. 'I'm so glad his plan worked out.'

'We'll have to see about that.' Ciel was not yet able to share her optimism, even if the visible changes meant that the demon's incorruptible will to show nothing but impeccable butler behavior was still alive and in there. 'We'll only know when he stops breathing.'

Lizzy frowned, 'When he _stops_?'

Ciel's answer was just another facet to the web of riddles that Lizzy knew she needed yet to figure out. 'As soon as he can do that we'll know he's back in control.'

* * *

Bard sat up and looked around, trying to spot his enemys before they spotted him. 'What the hell - ?'

'Where are we?' asked Finny, rubbing his eyes as if he'd woken in his bed instead of in a dusky room that was heavy with a sweet fragrance.

May-Rin sneezed herself awake, almost knocking her glasses off.

'Welcome,' said a voice from the shadows. 'I am sort of glad to see you. Although I must admit I did not expect visitors in this place.'

The voice belonged to a figure that rested on an ottoman and held something looking suspiciously like an opium pipe to its face.

'Mister Lau,' said Bard, who quite naturally assumed the role of the spokesperson of their group. 'Is that really you?'

'Who can say in a place like this? Am I really here?' Lau looked down his own body to where he wriggled his slippered toes, then directed his glance back to the servants. 'Just as well I might ask: Are you really here?'

'Well, I'm not,' said May-Rin with some conviction. 'I'm clinging to Angela's neck, and Snake got real weird, and then - '

'There was a bright light shining on my face,' said Finny.

Lau reached out and lit a lamp that sat on a table beside him. The light fell directly on the servants' faces.

'Yes,' said Finny. ''T'was like that. Exactly.'

'Hey. Stop doing that,' said Bard, shading his eyes.

'Ran-Mao,' said Lau in a way of greeting someone behind the servants. 'I was starting to get worried.'

'Sorry,' she said, standing in the spotlight like some vaudeville star. She was dazzled by the light like the others, but she kept looking at where she knew Lau to be with unblinking, dark eyes. Her hands pressed against her bosom as if clasping something of great value.

Lau shaded the lamp and reached out his left hand invitingly, 'Have you brought us something, Ran-Mao? Of course you did. Show it to me.'

She hurried toward him, past the servants whom she cast shy glances. When she opened her hands to reveal her treasure, it was the statuette of an emerald green snake, poised as if to strike. In its fanged mouth, there was a small silver marble like a pearl in an oyster.

Lau looked at it and smiled.

+++End of chapter 7+++


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